"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
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there... dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before... Loving with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe
She takes note of the words, meet me here tomorrow ; but keeping her face from showing any response is slightly more tricky of a task. She wants to search for the face that had projected the words, but no, bringing undo attention to someone who has made an effort to keep herself from the spotlight is never a polite, nor smart thing to do. Accordingly, she resigns to swiveling her ears in acknowledgement, it would need to be enough for them. What a lonely place this world is; the kingdom is quiet, to quiet. It’s dangerous, disturbing; and as a monarch, for Hestia, it’s worrisome. They need numbers, they need strength. Isobell seemed to have left some waves in her parting; at least that is some of the rumors she hears being whispered about. Currently the Nerinian’s have no friends amongst the other kingdoms. Yet. No friends yet. The old hag plans on leaving soon for some diplomatic meetings to change that. However, this meeting must happen before she can depart from the land to build their relations. She makes her way to the cliff face, looking down on the waves lapping at their black sandy beaches.
Nerine may not be the Jungle, but she hopes that some of the old blood still pulses in the women’s souls that reside here. If it does, they at least stand a chance of keeping the old ethics, and ideologies intact. The legacy may still survive, even after all this. All the worries, all the stress, it’s nothing; practically mundane for her. The single hard part, is the loneliness as queen. It doesn’t matter how busy she keeps herself, there is still an isolation she feels, standing here, or making speeches to inspire. She, is alone. And who’s fault is that, her lips curl reactively to the bite in the words that tumble about in her head. Always it can pinpoint her most deep-seated insecurities and self-loathing thoughts and pull them to the surface. Why the fuck it bothers her now though is the most troubling. It’s not like she’s been anything but alone in her life. Three years is nothing; it’s a blip in the expanse of eternity. No, not even a blip, she has decades that escape her memory. The alliance battles are coming up, she needs to choose a Champion soon; needs to find an heir to begin training, and…
The mare wonders if there will ever be another moment when her thoughts are not completely consumed with the implications, strategies, and morale of the people. She sets her jaw, reeling in her calculations, bringing herself to focus on the here and now. She is curious to know who it is that can remember the sisters; how it is the woman could guess that she was not sure if she did the Amazons justice. Trying not to offend the people she vowed to protect, while telling them to pull their heads from their asses is never an easy balance. From the looks, and the words exchanged at the meeting; she thinks she saw realization dawn on a few of their faces. Even if there are a few more that realize the need for respect towards their heritage; she hopes she wasn’t overly soft on telling them that they are not entitled. Bringing a crippled kingdom out of self-pity and asking them to leave their bruised egos behind is a lot harder when they don’t even realize they do it. Glad you could make it, she says when the grasses begin rustling with the sounds of an approaching horse. She turns her neck looking over the woman that approaches. She seems so familiar… something scratches at the back of her mind. Has she seen this woman before?
02-15-2018, 11:27 PM (This post was last modified: 02-18-2018, 07:32 PM by Scorch.)
WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT
Not even a week back and already the thrum of kingdom life sings to the mare's heart and soul - even if said thrum happens to be rather lacking right now. Indeed, at the kingdom meeting last night, only two figures showed themselves, and Scorch didn't care to catch their names. Four mares is not enough. It is far from the foundation required to rebuild the legacy of the Amazons.
But that's why Scorch is here; to raise some fucking hell.
Well, in truth she's been recruiting more than she has been hell-raising. But it's an indirect effort. It takes more than four people to raise hell, and although her shoulders are broad and powerful, she cannot take up the slack of so many missing faces. And she has to be picky, too; not in a sexist way, no, just in general. Like Hestia, every fiber of her being yearns to uphold and reestablish the ideologies of the Amazons. Even without the tattoos, the oaths, the sisterhood - Scorch needs for there to be something more. More than just a herd where one can be as flippant as they please.
With the sun blasting overhead, a fiery watcher, Scorch parts the grasses and approaches the place where she had instructed Hestia to meet her. The clearing is large enough to host a kingdom as thirsty and beautiful as she remembers her Jungle, with her subjects. But she does not long for ownership, nor for the crown. For the first time in her life, Scorch is content with her placement - even more so, she thrives under it. Not that it's official yet - but with such a legacy and such experience, titles come easily.
If not, her advice would still be received with the same gravity.
"The pleasure's all mine."
Frankly, it's surprising that Hestia does not outright know Scorch. Even if this was their first time meeting, Scorch's appearance isn't exactly one that goes ungossiped. Her skin is scarred and mottled, black, pink, pale cream, with strangely placed patches of bay roan. Her powerful muscles ripple beneath the thin hide, and her hammer head is marked by the glimmering, color-changing orbs set in her eyesockets.
"I am Scorch. Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle." She dips her head, a show of respect, one that others before Hestia would not have so easily received. But times are different, now. Harder. Meager. "And I am at your service."
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there... dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before... Loving with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe
The kingdom is almost dead, and Hestia is doing everything in her power to bring it back to life. When a leader doesn’t need to yell to be heard by all in a meeting, its never a good sign. She knew things were bad, knew getting the kingdom on its feet would be tough. She knew her rule was going to be an uphill battle all the way. Never in a million years could she have suspected just how crippled the kingdom was that had been handed to her. Calling the meeting she had expected a weak outcome, but this… When one had crawled out, she had been hopeful, when the second came tagging along, she had been worried, when a third finally made it to the scene she felt the wind knocked out of her. This is it? This is all she has to work with? Still she takes note of who shows, for they will be the ones to watch. If they stuck it out in the hobbled kingdom for this long, then their faithfulness could not be questioned. She does not expect much from them currently. They must be exhausted from carrying the workload on their own, but she wonders how they will fair when it becomes a prospering kingdom once again.
Hestia had been raised with the idea that once a queen always a queen. While she would never put on airs or play favorites, she knows the value of insight. Earning a place would be equal for all, but that doesn’t mean that she will ever not look in other directions for guidance. Sometimes that is more valuable a position to hold than any title could ever be. She would know having been a spy for the Jungle for so long. How many times had she been able to avert a war or some major diplomatic incident because she held the ear of a monarch or some general. The spies had helped the Jungle become strong, feeding intel to one source or another. Or feeding false intel to divert attention. Oh, that had been fun, walking the line, being the only one to know the real capacity of your power. Never recognized, never trusted, always listened to. She had thrived in that setting.
She wouldn’t recognize the past queen immediately the last time she had seen her, she still had hair. Their meeting had been brief some kingdom meeting or training session, and after that she had spent her time in the Dale, spying… as usual. The gossip she had heard was more focused on the Chamber and Gates… or was it the Deserts and Falls? Eh, its all so muddled. She probably did hear about the hairless beast at some point. But her dear old memory slips a little more each day and this seems to be one of those things. She doesn’t need to hear the title, however, the name alone sparks her memory, and everything that she had heard associated with that name comes flooding back to her mind. A smile quirks her lip, this is exactly what the Nerinian’s need. Hestia dips her head mirroring the other. She is shocked that she is receiving that respect from a past queen; as she has never seen one make any form of inclination to do so at any other time in her long history.
The next words that come out of her mouth has Hestia humbled with no words to express it. She dips her head again instead, hoping that it shows her recognition of the others importance to Nerine. After a small pause she continues, I must say, it is a relief that you have decided to join us. Maybe Nerine stands a chance, what had started out as a grey and hopeless day for her, becomes something more meaningful. With Scorch here, and if she can convince Walter to be an active piece in the kingdom. If she can call Djinni back, along with Starlin. They have a chance to rebuild. But I’m sure that you have something you would like to discuss, Hestia has never been one to linger on pleasantries. Getting down to business has always proved to be the only way. Her tail switches as her green eyes gaze back at the others color shifting ones.
Scorch had been lucky. When Brunhild handed her the throne, the Jungle had been fleshed out, set with enough mares that their safety, their growth, was guaranteed. These days, however, it seemed as if none of the kingdoms could lay claim to such security of numbers; Nerine least of all, or so it felt first-hand, anyway. So even for the veteran, this situation is new: but there were easy ways to right this. And she knew, just by looking at Hestia, that they were thinking the same damn thing:
Recruit. Fucking recruit.
Despite being a warrior, recruiting had always been (and now was again) Scorch's most performed service, and the one she felt to the be the most important. Whether or not she would renew her warriorhood was yet to be determined; despite her rebirth, she was old. But fuck if that'll really stop her.
It's strange to think that the last encounter they shared had been... Over a a hundred years ago, or at least somewhere close to that estimate. As their eyes scanned one another, taking in the muscle, the heart, the Amazon-blooded mare opposite each other, Scorch remembered her. Or rather, she remembered herself, then, before she lost her fur: an impulsive teenager, loud-mouthed, brash, inelegant.
...Some things don't change.
But others, do. Hestia dipped her head in reply, and with that simple motion, they became equals. Title-less; neither Queen nor once Queen. Instead, they were informants, colleagues, blood-sisters. As was their right to be; as they had sworn.
"I think my arrival was quite needed, I'll agree," the mare replies, a hard smile curling her lips. "I intend to help Nerine from her knees and on to her feet." She laughed, gravelly. "And though you can thank me later, I appreciate the recognition." It's a joke, but with the fate of their kingdom in the balance, it didn't feel all to funny.
Hestia got to the thick of it then, and Scorch's laugh rang out more deeply - a rumbling tone, like thunder.
"Oh, Hestia, there's endless topics to touch on. But first I must say that we are far, far too similar for our own goods." A grin. "I thank the gods that we're on the same side. I've had to fight myself before, and -" She snapped some blackness around Hestia's eyes, blinding her momentarily before sending the shadows away. Tendrils of light tickle the Queen's black skin, winding up her legs and around her barrel in their wake. "- while it left me with some goodies, it's not an experience I would repeat."
The mare settled then, sinking into a hip, at ease in the presence of one so like herself. "But in seriousness. I've been recruiting, and will continue to do so at every opportunity. If you'd like for me to go on a kingdom visit, then just say the word; some knowledge on where I'm going might be helpful, considering that I have no idea what's going on with any of the other kingdoms. Also, no one's really been clear with me on this point: may I recruit stallions?" Her dragon eyes bounce from the tree she'd been studying absently back to Hestia. "I've raised many sons and loved a man fiercely. And besides that, we can't afford to turn anyone away on account of what's between their legs."
"Besides all of that, though. I want to know. How are you?" She lowered her gaze, scrutinizing. "How are you... Really?"
02-22-2018, 02:44 AM (This post was last modified: 02-22-2018, 02:47 AM by Hestia.)
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there... dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before... Loving with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe
She sees the gleam in Scorch’s eyes, she knows that look. The kingdom will be stronger because of it. The hairless woman speaks, laughs, and smiles easily. While all Hestia does is stand there, the only hint of wry mirth she feels revealed through her eyes. She knows the joke, she understands it, sometimes sarcasm and jokes are the only way to get through a situation, and this is definitely a situation. Hestia changes the topic, and Scorch laughs once more. Even if she doesn’t react all that much outwardly her relaxed posture should speak better for the queens understanding. That we are, she gives a quick nod in agreement. All the better for Nerine. Her lip twitches in scheming delight. When she mentions the idea of them being pitted against one another, Hestia shudders, but before she can do or say anything Scorch is has darkend her world. Draining the light from her vision, as the light leaks back into focus Hestia finds she must blink from disorientation.
Her muscles flutter where the light touches them, dancing around in their own way. Her tail whisking away the remnants when Scorch releases the energy. I’m sure, she can only imagine as she’s heard tales of the atrocities that the fairies send Beqanna’s residents through to be deemed worthy of the magic that thrives in this land… thrived. She flares out her flame wings giving Scorch a look, she would know Hestia had been selected for one such trial. They are never things that someone would want to repeat going through. If you made it, if you were deemed worthy and not completely mutilated, killed, or fallen behind others, the fairies would make the trouble worth your time. Otherwise you might come back to Beqanna with something terribly wrong with you. She’d seen a few and it was disturbing to watch, even for Hestia.
I have noticed, how are the little ones? I would enjoy meeting them at some point in the future. Right now wasn’t the time, right now they have business to discuss. It’s good that you brought that up I do need you to go to Sylva, see where we stand, and if there is a possibility for an alliance there. I honestly don’t know much about what is happening. she breaks of the wry look she gives as close to a laugh as she’ll get. That’s a first for me. We will be accepting stallions, we may be the only kingdom that sees females as true equals, but putting males down will not endear us to anyone. The females simply must keep their wits about them and remember they are warriors. It’ll be good for them, remind them not to get lazy in their training. Hopefully though it wont cause the mares to sit back and let the men carry all the load. The last part is tipped with a sourness as she looks away to the beach thinking for a moment. So much has changed, its an absent whisper, one she doesn’t realize has even come from her lips.
She had missed the look in her drift, and what comes next has she jerking slightly. She’s still not used to all the personal questions everyone prods her with. She doesn’t like it, it’s the worst part of being queen, nothing is yours and yours alone anymore. Holding everything in is much harder in this position, much harder than dealing with fucking mind readers in kingdom meetings watching for all you file away to take back to the real kingdom you serve. So much harder, and yet her first instinct is to snap, growl and bear her teeth at someone for prying.
She doesn’t though, she simply looks back at the mare before her eyeing her in her habit. She doesn’t even realize she does this before she can settle once again. Walter had taken the edge off and she doesn’t immediately bristle shooting sharp barbs at the mare for trying to be friendly. or is she? the voice goads her in the back of her mind, trying to stir up any sort of drama. Its when she lowers her head and refuses to look away that Hestia shifts with a sigh. Quelling the voice and trained instinct. I had a run in with a creature the other day. Fennick’s dead and left my children. Their alive. I’m going to have to find them somehow. Her voice is dead, until the mention of him leaving their children. There is nothing left in her to feel anything for him, just her children. They are not his, not any longer, not after he abandoned them. This time a laugh does come out of her throat. Its ugly, terrible and cringing, Apparently whatever the creatures saw inside of me when this happened gave them reason to give me the phoenix flame. bitterly she finds the irony, always through the pain. Always. What about yourself? she is quick to change topics, they may have found comradery, they may understand one another a great deal, but Hestia has never been one to feel comfortable in over sharing. Listening yes, sharing? Pffft.
Despite their seeming similarities, their differences were plenty, too. Where Scorch laughed and grinned as a long, hard-lived life had taught her to do in the face of non-serious situations, Hestia stood rigid and with only a glimpse of wry humour in her expression. But this difference of emotional expression was one that Scorch had met in nearly everyone around her. The key laid in the fact that she held herself as regally as Hestia, took herself as seriously, demanded the same amount of respect and obedience - and yet she still laughed. She still found herself full of reason to be merry.
It was an odd concoction of characteristics, and Scorch held nothing against Hestia for her own secret brew.
Hestia reacted well (read: barely at all) to Scorch's little display of magic, bringing to mind the time that Brunhild had literally disintegrated into shadow right before her eyes. Sometimes women hide far more (and better) secrets than that place between their legs. Perhaps that statement alone was why Scorch pledged herself to the Zons, twice over.
Without missing a beat, the Nerinian Queen shows off her own magic - obviously earned from the same type of adventure, if it could even be called that. Scorch admired the wings in silence, their flames reflecting in the colour of her eyes; her heart fluttered at the sight of the tongues, her skin burning in remembrance of the tattoos that once covered her nakedness.
Ugly, now, and hairless; but it only stood to built character, she reasoned.
They moved on from the subject quickly. The memories - hard to speak of.
"They are doing well. Philomena will make Nerine proud - she is one of the best little children. Her heart is pledged to Nerine. And Kha is growing stronger, he comes from a troubled background - though he may not stay, I know he appreciates Nerine for the safety she has offered him." Her eyes flashed thoughtfully. "But I do think that you should meet Philomena... For purposes to be later discussed." Scorch nodded at the request of her to visit Sylva, and she inwardly planned for the trip.
At Hestia's comment about the men carrying all the load, Scorch snorts derisively. "With you and I here, I don't think that's even a possibility." They were intimidating women, tall, broad, sure of themselves, and powerful - everything a man feared in a woman. And yet, as Hestia said, things have changed... And in her heart, Scorch knew that accepting men into the kingdom would change them at their core from the Amazons they modeled themselves after. Her brows furrowed, eyes dropping, wincing. Scorch had nothing to add to her statement, but their moment of silence for their lost home spoke all that either of them needed.
Although Scorch understood the discomfort of having your personal life scrutinized by literally everyone (she had been Queen once too, after all), she couldn't help but feel entitled to her own share of the goods. If she were to be a good advisor to her Queen, she ought to know said Queen more than superficially. So when Hestia defies her instincts and quickly surmises the pains she had endured recently, Scorch dips her head in acknowledgement. It's not easy now, Sister, but I am an easy one to practice on. Good on you.
"I am sorry to hear that, Hestia. I know the pain of losing children. I will help you look for them, even if it is just by listening for names in the wind. I promise you that." She lowered her gaze, a sharp black-green piercing the usual molten red of her eyes as anger surges through her - not loudly as it might once have, but with a tempered stealth. "And... If you ever wish to exchange words with this Fennick. I am able to speak to the realm of the dead... Not today, I know, but. Whenever, or if ever you need. You know where to find me."
"As for myself, I have been... Lonely. I miss my husband, who is still dead, though we talk nearly constantly. And I miss my children. I birthed ten of them or so, and now I haven't the means to continue in that way, besides adoption. But Mina and Kha are good children, and I love them as I would my own brood. So. I am content - and ready for whatever Beqanna has to throw at me, at us, at Nerine." She grinned again, large and mischievous and dangerous. "You can count on me for that much at least."
"I'll take my leave of you for now though, Hestia, as I think it is still early enough for me to travel to Sylva. I'll leave you with this thought: I think you ought to be Khaleesi Hestia. We ar in remembrance of the Jungle, after all... And that way, there won't have to be a final Khaleesi. And if a man ever rules - gods save us - he would be the Khal."
"At any rate, that's just my mind being bothersome. Thank you for the talk, Sister... I'll be around." Stepping forward, Scorch pressed her bare muzzle to Hestia's shoulder in solidarity, and quietly left the gathering area.
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