WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT
Ah, how close Carnage had come to summoning Scorch to the land where four of her sisters have gone. How close her life had come to transforming into something else entirely. Yet as Scorch now stands unchanged, her far-away grandson shifts through the realms, terrifically terrified of his new ability to visit the dead, among other… Things.
The druh-drum, druh-drum of galloping hooves catches Scorch’s attention, though she must strain her ears, as the sound is light. When Wrynn bursts into the clearing, her ears twitch irately; she consciously forces them to stay forward, though the kind expression mentally pains her.
Oh, how torn you are my girl. Your mind races to Echion, remembers the neglectful fist with which she raised you, remembers the way it hurt you, the way it drove you. And yet you see her in Wrynn, the witch, the deceiver. Camrynn and Wrynn, how poetic; deceiver and deceptively-created.
Decisions, decisions.
Scorch allows Wrynn to begin the conversation – confrontation? – with a steady gaze. When the words finally fly, her expression changes. At first, her muscles tense, nostrils flaring, eyes shifting, ears leaning back, tattoos roaring silently upon her ugly, scarred skin. Noori or Kaida, she thinks, She’s met Noori or Kaida.
Rain.
“You’ve been where Rhy went, then,” She mutters hoarsely. “To the realm of the dead.” The thump-thump of her heart intensifies, slamming into the ivory bars which trap it, drumming a beat for the blood in her veins to dance to.
“How…” Scorch swallows, the knots in her stomach tearing her in two directions. Yet no matter how brashly she disapproves of Wrynn’s existence, she hungers for a taste of the life which never was. And no matter how direly she craves to know the sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound of Rain, she would never wish Rain’s fate upon Wrynn.
“How is she? And you,” She adds quickly, throatily. She overcorrects by speaking slowly next. “How, are you.”
Scorch
Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle