"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
He has been avoiding this meeting. Not because he is afraid of it, but because he had been enjoying his life of leisure a little too much. Well, maybe he is a little afraid, but only because of his failure to win the Deserts throne. Though he holds no regrets and had come to terms with it nearly the moment he had been deposited on the borders of the land by an ancient god (he remembers well the feeling of warmth and love he had been left with upon his departure, and for that he cannot be disappointed), he knows his mother too well to believe that she is not upset with him. By this point however, he hopes that her temper has cooled.
In the end, the reason he has come is Librette. She had reminded him of the duties he had been avoiding. His future is uncertain. It is an uncertainty that had not truly bothered him until now. Now that the realization has been made, he is no longer content to allow life to slide past him as it had been. He had to know which path his feet should take. His mother’s original plans for him had been foiled. This had left him at loose ends. Those are loose ends he intends to tie up, though whether it be from here in the Jungle, or elsewhere, he has no clue.
The jungle is as vibrant and thick with foliage as ever. But he knows this land like the back of his hand (or hoof, whatever), so it does not take him long to find his mother. Of course, she is not difficult to find either. He grins broadly, butting her shoulder affectionately with his nose.
Hey, ma.
Having bearded the lion in her den, he can only hope that her anger with him has passed.
Surely her temper has not cooled – she is fire, she is volcanic, she is the essence of heat – but that is not to say that she has learned to conceal such scalding temperatures. She’s been pondering Shahrizai’s failure, mulling it over with a sledgehammer. She had always known that Shahrizai might very well have been one upped, as he has been, but she also wishes that she had prepared him better. Been a better mother. For if her son had captured the Deserts throne, then she would have had guaranteed loyalty. With the way things are (with Camrynn being deceitful and traitorous), she truly wishes for characteristics which do not belong to her, characteristics which would have granted Shahrizai a true chance to winning the throne.
But Scorch has never been a good mother in comparison to some. In comparison to others – the harlots of Beqanna who have managed to bed each stallion they come upon, the abandoners and the neglecters and the abusers – she is the essence of a mother. If only her children would come to realize that.
He comes to her while her head is tangled amongst the grasses, her razor teeth shearing them. She finds that ruling the Jungle gives her quite an appetite, and quite a lack of time to satisfy it. His timing is lucky, as she’s nearly full. When his scent comes close enough that she knows he intends on – finally – confronting her, Scorch swallows and raises herself to her full sixteen hands, ears facing backwards, eyes hard.
Her cold expression – or should I say hot – nearly breaks when she sees her youngest son’s cheerful grin, the one she’d grown up encouraging whence she had the chance. Shahrizai’s childhood seems so long ago, she thinks, all scrunched together, as quick as a blink. Her innards twist as her ache to reciprocate his touch grows, but in this instance, she must be like Echion. Hard, cruel, demanding. Everything she’d promised never to be.
He can feel the heat of her gaze the moment it lands upon him. And though he had felt that gaze before, this time is different. This time he has to repress the flinch that nearly surfaces. It is not necessarily her gaze, or the heat of it, that causes this reaction. Rather, it is his own disappointment. He is very well aware of how much more he should have been. And it is his guilt. Because, despite everything, he has been very happy being a drifter. And he knows that this is never what Scorch had intended for him.
His attempt to hold a cheerful grin fails after a long moment. Instead, he clears his throat as a rather chagrined expression replaces the smile. And though he longs to drop her gaze as well, he does not. He is her son after all. Whatever else you might say about him, at least you cannot say that he does not have determination (and some small amount of courage, for make no mistake, it does take courage to look his mother in the eye when she is angry). He cannot hide that small tell however: the subtle shifting of his feet that speaks of his discomfort.
I came as quickly as I could.
His grin cannot be suppressed for long; it sits so naturally on his face that it has become almost an automatic reflex. His chocolate brown eyes glint with a spark of humor. He knows that Scorch had gone easy on him in his childhood, giving him the leeway to be young and happy. And for that he is grateful. It had allowed him to be himself, to find his true nature. He discovered a vast desire to learn and seek out all knowledge. And though he does not yet know how, he knows that one day this skill will be very useful.
Actually, that was a lie. I may have made a few pit stops along the way. But I’m here now!
He blinks wide eyes at her, his attempts to appear innocent falling woefully short. Sadly, he had left the appearance of youthful innocence behind long before he had reached his full (and quite considerable) height. Perhaps he would have had better luck with charming.
His grin falters, twitches into oblivion. It pains her to watch, to retain her stony composure, to replicate Echion in every single way (though Scorch mimics her for only an hour, while Echion had treated Scorch like this for her whole life). Yet just as Scorch had held her mother’s unloving gaze through each of their cold-hearted conversations, Shahrizai holds hers. Despite his drifting, despite his wandering, he is truly Scorch’s blood.
Though she reciprocates his gaze, her large ears catch the quiet shuffling of his hooves. Good, she thinks. Let him stew in his own anxieties, if only for a moment. He says his first piece – his first lie, actually – but instead of replying, Scorch continues watching him silently. A moment later, he reveals his falsehood, grinning like the foolish child she had watched grow up. Like the foolish child she loves.
”Alas, that is a claim some of your other siblings cannot make.” Suddenly the hardness slips off of her, a grin which she has suppressed through their entire encounter finally surfacing. ”Thank you for returning,” She says gruffly, obviously struggling to show her affection. Instead of trying to continue with words which slip around her mouth like water, the fire-woman steps forward and nudges her blue son’s jaw.
Oh, how she has improved since those first fateful twins. Let us hope that these improvements will carry over to the next generation – to that hidden twins, that is. Though her belly bulges wide, it is yet unremarkable. Hestoni and Scorch are large equines, after all. Her girth is not yet worrisome – but oh, it shall be, and quite soon.
He can feel his hope begin to shrivel with every second she stares at him with that cold, distant gaze. He had come here confident in his ability to charm his mother from her anger, but at her continued reticence, he becomes less and less sure. So when her expression finally slips, to be replaced by the affection he had become familiar with as a boy, his relief is nearly palpable. As she bumps his jaw, he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It is then that he realizes how much he has missed her: the fierce but loving mother who had given him life. Stepping into her, he presses his check against her neck, giving her a very equine hug.
With a hint of the happy smile still teasing the corners of his lips, he steps back. He contemplates her question for a long moment, wondering how best to tell her who, and where, he had been visiting. In the end, he decides it is simply best to have it all out in the open.
I’ve been to the Meadow. And the Valley. Made a few new friends. One of them is Librette. She said you’ve met.
He watches her closely, unsure of what her reaction might be. He had deliberately left his words to hang, wishing to see what she would make of them. He has been a wanderer for some time now, but he is ready to settle down. He knows of Librette’s desire is to have him join the Valley, but he cannot give her an answer until he has settled a few matters first. At one point in time, he had been fully committed to serving the Amazons in whatever way he could, but he has learned much about himself while he has been away. He is no longer certain he could be completely happy in eternal servitude. But still, he needs to know what, and how much, he will be giving up if he were to join the Valley’s ranks.
As he studies her, he suddenly notes her swollen sides. A grin splits his features as he shifts forward and nudges her expanding sides. It seems everyone lately is having babies and forgetting to tell him. He knows of Ea, of course, and hopes he has the opportunity to meet her very soon. As well as the new brother or sister he is about to get.
Ma! You didn’t tell me you were pregnant! By the way, how’s my little sister doing?
As Shahrizai leans into the most unlikely of mothers, Scorch allows the embrace to continue until he pulls back. However aggressive or cold-shouldered she could be, Scorch has always been a feeler. That is, physical closeness has always been something she enjoys. At hers and Echion’s final meeting, Scorch had forced a hug upon the woman. Thinking of that one brief moment of true daughterhood helps the fire-woman hold the embrace. If she is anything, she is unwilling to be Echion as a mother, but strives to be Echion in every other way.
When they separate, she must wait a moment for an answer, but when it comes, she knows it to be true. Shahrizai is her son, after all. She knows his signs.
“Librette is an honourable woman,” She says bluntly, but not unkindly. “We’ve met in the Field and the Valley while I was there.” A frown slowly squirms on to her forehead, and for a moment, silence falls. Her expression nearly screams contemplation, for what she might say next could alter things greatly. Rolling her shoulders, Scorch throws caution to the wind, figuring that it could do no harm.
Not now. Not after what happened.
“You know, Noori, your older sister, lives in the Valley.” Dragon eyes visibly darken at the mention of her eldest-daughter, and her lips turn downwards. “You could… Meet her, if you’d like. Meet her children.” Teeth grinding, Scorch scrutinizes her son for a moment longer, detesting the hesitation she feels, but unable to do a thing about it. “And you could tell her what’s been happening in the family. She and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms, but she might not be against meeting you.”
Sighing on to one leg – for her weight is great – Scorch watches her son lazily, but affectionately. Her flames flicker more slowly, for in the presence of her son, relaxation comes easily. Shahrizai has always had this effect on her, for which she is grateful. You were so easy to raise, she thinks. Thank you for that.
All of the sudden, Shahz notices her swollen abdomen. “I figured you’d see it for yourself,” She chuckles with a quirked brow. “They’ll be coming along soon, you’re welcome to meeting them. As for Ea… Well, she’s nothing like you or your brother. Completely stoic. Precocious. You should find her, teach her how to be social and make friends.” She rolls her eyes with another chuckle. “Y’know, if you want to.” Ah, Scorch, Scorch, Scorch…
For a moment he cannot believe his ears. Believe the choices she has given him. For a stallion who had grown up with his path laid before him, that several more had suddenly opened up came as something of a shock. It does not take him long to recover however, as his ever-present curiosity overwhelms him. He of course knows that he has older siblings beyond Simeon. He knows that his mother’s relationship with them is strained (or non-existent, whatever). He had never known why, nor had he heard his mother speak much of them before. Naturally, he is curious. But what has gotten his cogs turning more than anything else, is that Scorch is actually suggesting he go seek out his older sister.
As he hears her teeth grind, listens to the oddly hesitant explanation behind her suggestion that he find Noori, he knows that he will. He can’t imagine she will be too difficult to locate within the Valley. And he will speak with her. Perhaps she won’t wish to visit with him, but at the very least he can speak at her. He’s pretty good at talking. But in that moment, the normally talkative stallion says only a few simple words in response.
I’ll find her.
And like a switch, suddenly the conversation becomes significantly less serious. The grin is back on his lips, an expression that sits so naturally and suits him so perfectly. He can’t help but laugh at her surprisingly complacent tone as she suggests he teach his sister how to make friends. This is a far cry from the mother that had greeted him so coldly. And he finds himself grateful that she had so easily forgiven him.
I can’t wait to meet her. And if I can’t socialize her, no one can.
The laughter is clear in his voice as he teases her (and his absent sister). A burst of love and affection fills his chest as his brown eyes find hers. He steps forward once again to press a second hug to her neck, his words quiet but clear enough to hear easily.
Love you, ma. I’ll see you again in a little bit.
shahrizai
html c Insane
Figured I would end it there, unless Scorch has more to add >.<
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