runnin' away to the riptide;

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

Her own child - adopted, though that meant little to the veteran mother - rested easily in their thicket in Nerine, tucked away and looked after by the other members of that kingdom, though they were few and far between. Scorch had left Philomena with clear instructions as to where to find water and not to leave the kingdom, reassuring the child that her trip away would be short, that she was not abandoning the little girl as her mother had.

She smiles at the thought of her charge, unashamed now in her rebirth of her passion for children and motherhood. Before, in the Jungle, she had felt the need for a defensive attitude, as if she felt stand-off-ish on the topic of motherhood. Now, however, she embraces her closeness with the new filly. She will never again bear her own children, having been resurrected save for her womb: and furthermore, her husband still lay peacefully in his grave, though the two often spoke, tendering to each other's hearts and deepest desires. She was nothing without him.

Today, however, both child and husband are gently and temporarily put to the side. Having silently assumed a position in the Nerinian ranks, she feels it is her duty to find others to accompany her. Her strong legs traverse the land between her kingdom and the place of recruitment easily, and before long, she stands on the edge of the land, smiling and hopeful. It has been years, a lifetime actually, since her last visit here - and how frequently she used to come. The deja vu is almost too intense for her to stomach, and for a few minutes, she simply watches, a mutilated and ugly figure lost to the fog of her own memories.

There is almost no where else in Beqanna that has remained untouched by the gods. And if she can't have her Jungle, then by god, she would have her field.

A grullo mare appears along the perimeter not far from Scorch, and her arrival snaps Scorch from her reverie. Allowing the figure some time to adjust to her new surroundings, the once-fire sister lowers her head and pulls idly on the grass; but it is not long before the baroque mare closes the distance between them, dragon eyes a gentle roiling red-yellow - reminiscent of the tattoos which once covered her hairless, burned body.

"Hello," a blunt greeting shot from cracked lips; not smiling, but not firmly set, either. "My name is Scorch." For a moment, Scorch glances around the grullo mare, having smelled the distinct scent of a filly on the mare, but not seeing one. "Is there a little one with you?" It is a prying question, but her heart clenches in anger at the thought that this might be the mare who left Philomena alone in the Den - but the surge of emotion passes quickly, for the scent of filly on this mare is far too fresh, and she supposes that that same scent is on her, too. "Mine is at home," she says. "Nerine, I should say."

Scorch

Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

Oof.. I seriously never shut up