"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She's been putting it off. With all the recent commotion, you can't blame her. Although I suppose that you actually can blame her considering the fact that she, being the Khaleesi, began the recent commotions. So it is with a great self-hatred that Scorch trundles through her Jungle, wobbling horribly due to fatness. Well, pregnancy, to be exact, though Scorch loathes to admit it. Not because she is vain - have you seen the hairless rat? - but because parenting has always been her downfall and a cause for extreme anxiety and stress, despite the fact that over the years, she truly has improved.
Coming upon a rather large thicket surrounded by sequoias and thorny vines, Scorch squeezes in through an opening, cutting herself slightly on some ill placed rocks. Snarling at them, the woman sizes up the formidable boulder, preparing to attack - pregnant women, sweartogod - when the first contraction hits.
Ugh. Fuck.
Plopping herself ungracefully to the earth right there and then, the fire-sister closes her eyes and counts to ten. In reality it takes longer than that, but in comparison to other mares who have less children than she - less than six that is - it could undoubtedly have been ten seconds.
Heaving herself back on to all fours, Scorch pauses a moment, frightened to discover if this child will be Tiphon's queen or not. She's frightened to see if the child is male or female, for with Kaida and Noori (the inseparable twins who split down the middle like a tree hit like lightening) everything had gone wrong. She had done everything wrong. With Rain... Well, Rain hadn't made it past the first ten seconds of life. Scorch can still remember the way her lungs collapsed after one shallow inhale - she feels the collapse too, for the Jungle magiked her stillborn daughter's rib bones just beneath her spiky red flower as tattoos. But with her boys (with her bold Simeon and her darling Shahrizai) all has seemed to go so much smoother. They needed less encouragement, or perhaps it is simply that she gives more of it... And neither of them had died yet.
Realizing with a start that her child - be it male or female - could in fact be suffocating while she fretted over its unimportant gender, Scorch whirls about and begins cleaning the little sac. A small figure begins appearing, bay roan as Scorch had once been, with a silver mane and tail unlike any of her children prior. Scorch whuffs appreciatively before continuing to cleanse the girl.
The girl.
When she feels the knot in her stomach return, it is not because of a contraction. However fearless a leader Scorch may seem, she's the largest worrier when it comes to certain things. Things she cannot predict or be ready for, for example. This is why she is unafraid to go to war, but horrified of giving birth. This is why when something challenging and scary is given to her, she numbs herself to it.
She numbs herself to her daughter, or at least she tries.
When the girl opens her eyes, all hope is lost.
"Eee... uuuh..." The noises escape her charred lips before actual words manage to form beneath that thick skull of hers. As she gazes into the silver girl's fluttering eyes, this colour and that colour and all the colours all at once, Scorch falls in love. Noori and Kaida had shared her vision, but in the end that had only driven them apart. With her fourth daughter - may Rain rest in peace - she could be her whole self, an individual in her own rights. Scorch nuzzles the girl. "Ea." A suiting name. "You will be magnificent"
Encouraging Ea to her feet with a nicker and a step away, Scorch raises her head, expecting to find Hestoni by her side, and perhaps even one or two of her sons. Of Noori and Kaida and Rain she expects nothing. Of her sisters... Well, lest they wish to have nightmares about how Scorch is actually a real horse with real love and real feelings - nice ones, at that - they'd better stay away.
Or, really, it has already begun – years and years before Ea, before her mother and her grandmother, hundreds of years ago. There is history in her blood and when she is born, she becomes a part of history. Queens were born here, perhaps exactly here. Perhaps she is one of them.
Her first memories are of looking up at the hairless, flame colored mare with recognition: this is my mother. And then, Ea. This is my name. I am magnificent. I am fire.
She is fire: she can already feel it in her bones and in her blood, spreading through her veins and sparking a fire in her heart. I am magnificent.
After some encouragement the fire-girl stands, all legs, spindly and awkward. She sidles up to her mother, nursing briefly before moving away to learn her legs. Ea is independent from birth, much like her mother was, and does not remain at Scorch’s side for long. She already knows, somehow, that her mother is important and therefore, she is important too, and unafraid. She owns this place – this hot, sticky, lush jungle – wherever this place is.
When she is done with her brief exploration, she returns to lie down next to her mother, exhausted. “Mother, I’m tired,” she states, sprawling herself out. “Is there something we need to do today or can I go to sleep?” She was precocious, to be sure.
The Jungle is alive with life, fluttering, breathing, growing in every space and corner. The little forest girl with her eyes full of fireflies and crossed branches has gone past the point of interest and is verging now into the treacherous grounds of obsession.
She is looking for the newest addition to her treasure trove of collected items. The Jungle is a veritable gold mine of such things, with its wealth of pretty rocks, feathers, leaves, flowers, insects and dead animals.
She stumbles across this scene by accident. She visibly pauses, her front leg held up in mid-stride, unwilling to approach at first. If she had a better idea of manners, she would have backed away slowly but as it is, she is simply curious. She comes closer very warily.
"Hello," she says gently, very gently, not wanting to break the silence. But it's all too entrancing. It's only then she really takes in how peculiar the mother looks, with her hairless skin covered in the image of flame.
At the newborn's words, the small dark filly's face breaks into an amused smile and she glances upwards to the mother, hoping to share in their delight, even if only temporarily.
Immediate recognition surfaces in Ea’s fiery eyes – orange and red and yellow, a constant flame, a banner of her heritage. Scorch wonders where the child’s true heritage mark is, not simply the genetic ones she has inherited. Somewhere on the small child’s body, a small tattoo of fire lay. Upon Noori, it sprouted upon the underside of her face. Upon Simeon, it hid beneath his silky mane on the arch of his neck. On the others, Scorch cannot be sure. She wants to be sure this time.
Ea begins wandering from her mother’s side. Scorch has noticed that each of her children do so very quickly, almost instantly. She is not insulted, in fact, she is proud. Their independence means that a trait from generations ago have been passed down. From Echion to Scorch and now to all the little Scortoni babies; each have their own lives. None are dependent on their parents, though some appreciate their company more than others. Scorch prays to the Gods that Ea will perhaps grow to appreciate her mother, too.
In the brief time that mother and daughter have to themselves, Scorch watches the silver girl intently. She watches the way Ea seems to know exactly where to place her dainty hooves, as though the Jungle speaks to her the way it spoke and will continue to speak to the Khaleesi. A smile colours her fiery face; she is in paradise.
A warmth spreads through her when the girl returns to her side, precociously asking if she could rest her darling head. Scorch extends her neck, caressing the girl as she speaks. ”Rest tonight, Ea. Tomorrow we begin training.” She is about to go on, to explain just why the girl will be magnificent, when another child ambles over. Flattening her ears, Scorch raises herself to her full height and steps over her daughter, hiding her between her legs. When the small thing has only one word to say, Scorch eases her ears forward.
No one messes with her children.
”Hello. I am Scorch, and this is princess Ea.” The title suits the silverling, and a smile curls upon her anciently scarred lips. ”Who are you, child? Are you of the Jungle?”
Scorch
Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle
The last question is just to see if she wants to be on the board or not, so answer accordingly
Ea is no wild thing; not like this girl. Though the fire-girl is born of the jungle – as evidenced by not only her blood, but the hidden fire-tattoo on the underside of her belly – she is not of the wild. She is structured, calculated; every move she makes and word she says is carefully planned, even at this age. She is not wise, no. She merely understands her importance in life.
Her mother coos to her, gently, mentioning tomorrow’s training, which does not thrill Ea. She is above it. What is there for her to know? Nothing that she cannot teach herself. But she merely flicks her tail at the remark, only moving more when another approaches them by accident. She sits up at the girl’s gentle hello, and smiles briefly before returning to her horizontal position.
She is small before them, the tiny black girl. For some reason, her mother is on high alert when the little one approaches them, but Ea is unconcerned. She raises her head to look at the girl as her mother stands over her, and flops back dramatically. “Mother,” she says, mildly agitated that her nap was being disturbed. “I like her. She can stay,” she says simply, without raising her head again.
press my nose up to the glass around your hearti should’ve known i was weaker from the start
Although they have had five children already (although only four remain living, rest in peace his third daughter) he is still a nervous wreck when spring comes. He knows he shouldn’t be so worried – his fire has suffered through five childbirths and two of them had been one after the other – but his mind always dives toward the worst cases possible. He prays Rain is the only one who take the blows of premature death; he prays that Scorch will not become like her mother – leaving her newborn child in favor of the spirit world; he prays that Scorch will not become eternally weakened in the aftermath of her laboring; he prays their new child will be full and healthy and without severe blemishes.
As soon as winter melts away into spring, the titan keeps a careful eye on his pregnant lover. The sight of her swollen sides and swaying curves appeals to the fatherly side in him – the side that marvels at the working ways of woman and how she can carry such a thing alongside all the internal organs, the side that loves her even more although she is hot and angry and fat with pregnancy, the side that adores every fiber of her being despite how sweaty or unattractive she might feel. Nonetheless, among all his wondering, is the ever present tendril of fear and worry that creeps along.
He isn’t near her when she collapses, but the Jungle stirs around him. He can feel his home coming alive amid the struggles of a princess being born and his fire tattoos (living fire twining with the tattooed pale of his ribcage, excited fire creeping up his strong jaw into the chocolate brown of his serious eyes) leaps against his skin, beckoning for its sisters which lay covering his maiden as she labors.
He reaches her before the delivery is complete but stays within the shadows. She might not know his presence is there in the moment of pain and weakness, but when she rises from that agony-clouded haze she will feel him there, lingering near her as an ever present guardian. Once she rises, he allows her a few moments to bond with their new child, licking it clean and murmuring its name over top of its fluffy baby head. Once someone new steps into the scene, however, he’s appearing from the shadows like the titan he is – hooves pounding against the ground and chest heaving with breaths heard as if they came from the crevasses of the earth.
Their daughter – Ea, as she has been named – is cradled between the fire-laden legs of her mother and his lover. They are all influenced by the fire (the fire of their eternal love, the fire of life, the fire of magnificence and greatness and power) and it is blazed on their bodies like words spoken alive. “Il mio fuoco,” he says, a soothing combination of words clashing against the roughness and depth of his voice, “all is well. A daughter…” He pauses, forcing himself to swallow down a lump in his throat which somehow appeared along with the thought of their lost daughter, of the one they never knew. “She is beautiful. All of our daughters are beautiful.” And he means all of them.
“She has your eyes.” And at this, he chuckles, seeing the dragon fire and sharp acuity that comes with the dragon vision of the princess’s mother. Turning his attention toward the intruder, the titan draws himself up to his full height of 16.2 hands. “Can we help you, miss?”
Scorch acts like she's never experienced a foal before, not even a little, fluffy black one who is possibly the least imposing equine in all Beqanna. Why she felt the need to step protectively over the newborn Da might understand if she bothered to think at any length about it, but she can't. She has more important things to think about, like the rarest plants and stuff to waste headpsace on an arrogant and uppity mare. At any rate, she is amused, her head tilting to the side and her bottlebrush tail flicking against her sides.
"What's a princess?" she asks innocently, stepping closer and closer. "I'm Da, my sister is Raeanne. Although I can't remember what my ma is called. She's around somewhere, though. They brought me here."
Ea says she can stay and Da would laugh but... reasons. It was awfully kind of the Princess to give the little black filly permission to stand wherever she would like on our Mother's green earth. She longs to say something to that effect, but she'd much rather stay and play with her. She's not an adult, anyway, so she's not really mean yet.
Ea, the organised, the calculated, and Da the wild-thing. Her chaotic web is far too tangled to tell whether there is a grand design, now or ever.
And then a stallion appears, just as protective as the mother, and the small black filly rolls her eyes. Really. She is SMALL. And FLUFFY. A mildly irritated beaver would probably be more of a threat than she is.
"No, you can't help me." She says, her large brown eyes looking up at him quizzically. "Can I help you?"
Ea seems unsure as to whether sitting up or laying down suits her fancy, and flops about accordingly. It really is quite the show of dramatics, and though Scorch knows exactly where she got the flare for such antics from, she denies the facts. Like mother like daughter, you know.
Ea’s posh statement concerning the SMALL and FLUFFY (tehe) girl earns a huff from the Scorch – quite unbecoming of the Queen, but then again, she’s unbecoming of everything. When she hears heaving breathes originating from the foliage, Scorch abandons her protective stance, carefully raising her lethally bladed hooves over small Ea. Once she’s clear of danger, Scorch closes the small space between herself and her husband. As he speaks his romantic words for which she’d fallen in love with him, her sweaty, ugly, hairless body leans into his muscled, handsome, strong one. She’s tired, she’s spent, and she’s already been a better mother in five minutes than she has in fifteen years. At this point, she could care less about public displays of affection.
”She is,”She agrees quietly, watching her daughter breathe through baby blue eyes. ”She does,” She says more confidently, a rascally smile painting her expression. Ea is the first of her children to earn what Scorch has long had – but at this rate, with this many children, their chances only increase with each conception.
”This is your father, Ea.” Scorch offers the explanation quietly but firmly, meeting her daughter’s dragon-gaze. Hestoni is Scorch’s world, and while she is reluctant to share him, she knows the importance of a healthy relationship between the two. After living through Kaida and Hestoni… Well, the past is the past, and they have both learned from it.
The group’s attention eventually returns to the small and fluffy intruder who has managed to ruffle everyone’s fur. Mostly that happens to be because Scorch doesn’t know how to handle more than one child at a time. When the child – Dá, she says – speaks more fully, Scorch finds that perhaps two children is not a large challenge, as long as one of them does not happen to be her own.
”A princess is the queen’s daughter.” Scorch explains not unkindly, though she doesn’t make exceptions when it comes to her burly tones. The woman does not mind when Dá continues approaching her little silver girl, for with Hestoni here, nothing can possibly go ill. ”I’m glad they brought you here, child. Ea will need friends her age.” A potentially sass-inspiring statement, but a childhood is not a childhood without friends… Scorch knows, believe me.
Glancing to Hestoni, Scorch smiles a quiet smile. ”If you two would like, father and I will leave so that you might play some. We’ll be just out of the thicket.”
Depending on their answers, Scorch either stays or goes.
Scorch
Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle
Ooc – I need to get some threads off of my plate but I totally platonically ship Deá so I thought I’d make it so that they can continue threading whilst I bow out! <3
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Ea
