ran my wandering mind away; Scorch/Hurricane/any

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

Ah, how differently they have aged. His bones ache, and hers do too, though from battle, not stiffness. His lungs burn from walking where as hers burn from rushing from Sister to Sister through the most humid kingdom in Beqanna. His mind drifts to the comforts of a magician whilst hers drift to their power, their usefulness, and their untrustworthiness. Alas, though these things they share, Crito and Scorch are destined to be opposites (to the naked eye, at least).

A distinctly male call pierces the regular chaos that is the Jungle. Finding her interest piqued, the Khaleesi tunnels her way through the many passages of the Jungle, vines tearing her bald skin as she forges new walkways. Ever since she and Crito had raised themselves together as children, Scorch has been this way. Why take the well-worn path when only trees, tigers, and boulders stand in your way? Of course, her icy twin had never been fond of this means of travel. This wasn’t the first of their differences, though; not by far.

The fire-clad Queen arrives shortly, blood trickling down her barrel, though she hardly notices. The shimmer of her frosty grey eyes reflects the homeland from which the two men have come, though by no purposeful means.

Immediately, a grin reveals her bladed teeth. Without thought, she steps towards Crito and nips at his graying muzzle affectionately. A low whicker rumbles from the depths of her chest in a familiar greeting, warmth spreading through her in a gentler way than her all-consuming fire. Removing herself from her brother’s proximity bubble, Scorch surveys the winged stallion next, though the greeting is far colder than the one she has offered Crito. In the end, however, they receive the same treatment.

”Gentleman, welcome. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle