"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
The silver boy had spent his years haunting the amazons, never truly leaving. He had spent his time keeping watch over his entire family and occasionally he would make an appearance in order to let them all know he was alright. His mother had been his closest friend and confidant and with her his bond was even stronger than that with his twin, Wrynn. For ages he had supported his mothers dislike for the girl who looked so much like the queen his mother rebelled against. And then the day came that he could nolonger support the anger flowing through his family and he left. Wrynn was such a kind hearted soul. One who when they were born couldn't understand their mother's hatred.
Like Wrynn, Leiland had been confused. But in other ways. He had harbored his own mother's feelings within himself and shunned the small bay girl the way he thought he was meant to. It took quite a while for him to realize he wasn't living by his own opinions and when he realized as much, he found himself disappearing into the amazon. Over time he taught himself how to take care of himself without the luxuries being an amazon queen's son brought. He only decided to make his way back permanently when he knew deep down he was ready.
And today happened to be that day. Slowly he stepped over the kingdom borders and made his way silently towards the clearing where the kingdom tended to gather, eyes taking in his surroundings as he moved gracefully through the underbrush. Not once did he worry about being pushed out or confronted. Most here knew him as the queen's son. Reaching the edge of the clearing, he looked out across the open until catching sight of his mother. "Mother," he called gently before stepping into the light and slowly walking towards her. "Mother, I've been looking for you." With a gentle smile he stopped infront of her shrugged slightly like a child who had been off exploring caves when they had been told not to.
He wasn't sure how she would react to seeing him, but he hoped deep down that she would embrace him and still care for him the way she had when he was a little one. For despite their difference of opinion at the time, he still cared so greatly for her.
Black and white; the differences between Wrynn and Leiland’s relationship with Scorch. Her precious little boy (boys have always been her forte) and her accursed little girl (they’ve always rubbed her the wrong way). Ever since his birth, the silver boy grabbed for her heart and stole it – or pieces of it, considering its broken state. And Wrynn? With each glance towards the incorrectly coloured girl, the vice around said heart grew tighter and tighter, until only Leiland’s childishly clumsy fingers brushed against the fragments.
And then, he left.
Wrynn did too for a while, she counters to herself. And she came back… better. The underbrush caresses her scaly hocks as she strides firmly through the Jungle, her broad shoulders pushing through enclosed spaces so as to reopen an old path. She bleeds here and there, crimson blood leaking from her powerful chest and mutilated skin. Her fire – her perpetrator – has vanished, leaving her the victim; and she sheds scarlet tears for the loss of her tattoos.
They will return, however, like many things, and many people. Lost and then found, a sheep returned to the flock by a loving shepherd. To the bottom of this ongoing list, Leiland’s name is written.
Her head snaps to the sound of his voice, a rumbling nicker quick to fill the space between them. The clearing had not been her destination, though she had been slightly too preoccupied to truly choose one anyhow. Nevertheless, she embraces fate’s shoving of the two together. Settling herself with a small, meaningless flutter of her brazen heart, Scorch allows her son to approach.
“And I have been waiting, son,” She replies coolly, instinctually irresponsive to his return. Each child has performed the same act, the pup with its too-short tail tucked between its hind legs; the mother-wolf has become all too practised to their apologies. But like any good mother, she relents in the end. “How have you been?” Her chilly frontier bursts, floods of warm water released; Scorch steps forward, nibbling and exhaling his forelock, the same as she has always done. Retreating, the mare notices how tall he has suddenly became, and deep with her heart of broken hearts, she aches for the children who shall never be her babies again.
The difference in her appearance had been the slightest shock. It had taken a while for him to realize that the flames that had danced across her skin had vanished entirely and that the faintest specks of blood traced across her body. But he chose to ignore it. He had known how much the amazon's tattoos had meant to his mother. They had been proof of her hard work, dedication and life-long servitude to the jungle.
He knew if he were to mention their disappearance that she may snap and he wasn't ready for such hard emotions. He wanted their reunion to be the happiest it could be. Looking into his mother's eyes he smiled that typical crooked smile as she spoke coolly. Her chilly tone went completely unnoticed and he spoke calmly in return, "I am sorry for making you wait mother." Taking a deep breath he took a small step towards her.
"I did not mean to cause you any harm. I needed to go out on my own, and find myself." When she steps forward and messes with his forelock, in the ways she always used to, he laughed softly before tilting his head slightly to the left. "I have been well mother. Better than I have ever been before. But I am glad to be home. How have you been? I see the Jungle is thriving." For a few moments he looked around them, his eyes tracing over the trees and foliage before they found their way back to his mother's eyes.
For so long he had hidden himself away and had forgotten how it became even more beautiful towards the middle of the amazon kingdom. The emerald like greens, the blood reds the deep browns and silver like grays were so electric. There was nothing like it. And this is what would make it hard for him to leave for a new home, and a new kingdom.
But most of all what would make things hardest would be his family. He was so close to them all and he knew it wouldn't just be hard on him, but them as well. He wanted nothing more than to make them happy, but a life as a man-servant to the jungle just wasn't something he could submit to. Now he just had to figure out how to tell his mother.
With a charmingly lopsided smile, her darling son subtly ignores any disagreeable points in their meeting. His calm voice and soft laugh sooths any of Scorch’s ruffled feathers; she has always been fond of her sons. Each a true individual, but all interconnected somehow. Her daughters, on the other hand, have pressed her patience. Then again, the patience she has for her daughters might not be quite as large as the one she has for her sons. Call her prejudice, call her sexist; it’s simply her motherly nature.
“No harm was caused,” She comments dryly, rolling her dragon eyes softly. “After ten kids, a little bit of alone time could be considered healing.” She echoes his deep laugh with a deeper one, almost as though she could stand in place of Hestoni in his absence. In reality however, Scorch would never quite be able to live up to the red titan’s legend. Not many truly knew him; not like she did. Never like she did. And a small, selfish part of her wants to keep it that way.
“I am…” She paused, attempting to find the right word. “Not weary. Static, perhaps.” Massively scarred shoulders roll as she continues to analyze her feelings; something that she will and has never been any good at. “The Jungle thrives, but She grows bored.” Her eyes glaze over for a moment, caught up in a dream where she relinquishes the very thing she worked for three decades for: the throne.
“But of fucking course, I’m too ambitious to give up yet. I’ll find a way to captivate Her as of yet.” A half sly, half curious look swells in her navy eyes. Eager to leave the topic of her eventual demise, Scorch asks: “What is it you have in mind for the future, young man?” Who on earth knew that Scorch could be so affectionate?
Well. She’s also pregnant again, so there’s always that.
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