Faith is the bird that feels the light: Scorch

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

The Sisters trickle back into the woodwork of their kingdom until none but Scorch remains. In other kingdoms, it might be silent when one stands in solidarity; here, the chaos is never ending. Alone beneath the Grandfather tree, Scorch immerses herself in the glorious cacophony that is the Jungle. Shutting her various eyelids, the fire-woman breathes in the heady scent of sequoia, listens to the vulgarity of the talking parrots, and tastes the humidity. Even without sight, the Amazon stimulates her. It drives her to be more.

Yet some day, she shall fall.

The position of Erinak should be held by the one whom she trusts most to carry the crown succeeding her reign, yet this has not come to be. Instead, Scorch has found the position wanting; wanting someone whom she trusts herself, not someone the Jungle trusts. In this way, Malka has secured the title. Not because she will be the next Khaleesi - and not because she won’t be, mind you – but because Scorch trusts her with every fiber of her being.

”I’ll try harder next time.” The joke falls harshly from her anciently scarred lips, though those self-same lips curve into a foxish grin in the same moment. Shifting a mightily muscled and intricately scarred leg, Scorch bumps the flat of her head to Malka’s shoulder in a show of friendship. Ah, how they fit together, like mismatched puzzle pieces forced together out of sheer desperation.

”Where,” She says heavily, and with an all too serious, mature, adult look, ”The fuck have you been?”

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle