[open] Desolation comes upon the sky // Any

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

The Khaleesi came to her mentor without hesitation upon witnessing the hollow specter, the liquid silver cat an undeniable pull even to those who would not recognize it any more. Decades had passes since the spirit of the Jungle roamed her own rain forests in this form, blessing the Sisters with her presence during meetings and occasionally meeting up with them in private, too. Breckin would not know this, but she came regardless, the word Sister on her lips in the age-old greeting.

Scorch looked away from her creation, though it remained perfectly shaped. She had summoned this image more times than she could count, longing as she always had for a time that would never again come to Beqanna. A soft dip of her head excused any disturbing that Breckin seemed concerned about; she would always be here to give advice, though these days her thoughts felt broken and useless. She cared more about being a mother to her youngest daughter than she did about the plague - backwards, perhaps, but true.

Brennen appeared, as magicians would - Scorch was reminded immediately of her brother Errant who was wont to do the same - with plenty of time to spare upon hearing the urgency of his queen's murmurings. His lips found Scorch effortlessly, pressing some semblance of sanity into the pores of her mutilated skin. She turned to him and did the same, running her cracked lips along the sleek line of his neck, wondering where he had been and whether he had been safe in doing so.

"With your magic, it seems almost possible to revive her," she commented offhandedly, looking to the specter. The mare did not say more on the subject, knowing that he could not and not needing to tell him so for him to know. After a pause, Scorch refocused her attention, what remained of her ears perking to hear that which Breckin had to say.

Ah, Icicle Isle - this mother fucking bullshit again.

Stifling her useless anger, Scorch snapped the bone of her tail (hairless, as with the rest of her), a habit that had not died despite the fact that she lost her coat at the age of four, when now she was nearly sixty. Grinding her jaw and flicking her ears in displeasure, the mare listened to Brennen's rationale before deciding to add any of her own thoughts. After all, she had yet to forgive Leilan and Castile for their impulsiveness some months prior; it would be all too easily to speak rashly of them and theirs, if she did not give herself time to temper her words beforehand.

"Whether or not Leilan could use the responsibility is debatable, but I trust that he would defer to your judgement, Breckin. Well - even that sounds fake when I say it, but there is no one else who it could be besides him. And I agree that we ought to maintain a leading presence on the Isle, for the sake of nullifying potential competition when the time comes to establish the Kingdom, which will of course be Nerine."

"That being said, I also have no idea who this Camomila character is. But, I also defer to your judgement. As for the child... It will be free of the plague in the Isle, but there are magics there that will threaten its existence. I cannot imagine what I would do in such a position. I can't imagine leading in this shitstorm of a time."

Scorch

Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

@[Breckin] sorry she isn't more helpful, I had to rush *cries*