scorch;

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

For all that she wasn't Echion's true daughter, Scorch's life had been continuously subjected to the family that she still managed to build within said bloodline. From Echion (mother) to Myrina (sister) to Nayl (niece) and now to him - the man whose scent stopped her as she sought relief from the paranoia that staying in Nerine brought her currently. They'd met ages ago, when he yet stood beneath the shadow of his Queen Mother, a wonder-eyed boy just on the cusp of discovering that the adventures of life would more often be nightmares than daydreams.

Despite the almost unnoticeable growth in the deep wraps of her womb that begged her to run from the kingdom's confines (and one member in particular), the fresh and traceable scent of Castile overwhelmed even that urge. Anxious, the well-respected mare skirted the eastern pine forests while heading south, moving skittishly like a thief in the night; every sound caused her step to quicken, and every male scent gave her heart a painful wrench.

Though they'd shared everything, forever, for as long as she could remember (even to the point of him sacrificing his own freedom in the name of her last goodbye to her mother), the shameful and unarguably unfaithful nature of this particular secret left a gaping silence between Scorch and Hestoni. Where a flaming passion once glowed for all to see, embers now threatened to peter out, a fire left forgotten where it once warmed many.

When her eyes - higher caliber than his - found his figure gazing wistfully down the cliffside, she paused. The stallion (so grown now compared to when she'd ruffled his forelock and wished him a happy first-month birthday) seemed enraptured by the roll of the waves below, lost in a haze of thought so nearly tangible that Scorch had to peer even closer to check if there was one condensing above his ebony head. Alas, he too must have caught her scent on the bitter winter wind, for as she stood in hesitation, Castile pivoted slowly and began his own approach.

The snow gave way easily underhoof, a testament to the fluidity of their putrid existences.

"It's been some years," she allowed in her gravelled tones as they came to a thoughtful halt. Her eyes moved to the leathered wings at Castile's sides, then to the gold colouring his mane and tail, and finally to the icy hue of his eyes. Her own simmered deep burgundy, a subdued version of their usual red-yellow lava; for as I said, her fire is petering out, and in the rising of the ashes, something akin to her chaotic teenage years birthed itself anew.

"Why come back to Nerine? You've put down roots elsewhere." It was a guess, based on rumours; but she couldn't have the attention on her right now. Despite his adulthood, he still existed firmly as a colt in the depths of her memories; and perhaps by holding on to that image, she could maintain some semblance of composure and calm.

Scorch

Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

@[Castile] Angst Scorch is actually so much fun to write.