Lagertha / all kingdom.

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

When Scorch leans towards the tree for support, Lagertha suddenly replaces it; and oh, how comforting she is. Ten years of tension between the two and Scorch wouldn’t have anyone else beside her – what’s that saying, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Well, perhaps that’s why Lagertha’s simple, physical gesture rouses the ailing woman enough to get her under the overhanging rock. The Jaqqa – no, Khaleesi – mentions Sunday when Scorch settles, to which she nods and grimaces.

Rhy arrives first, positioning herself next to the disfigured mare wordlessly. Scorch’s low-hanging head lifts slightly, her ears perking almost happily, though she is far from happy. “It would have been you,” She wheezes to the Avthillar quietly, “But she would have killed me.” Smiling dejectedly at her own poor, sad joke, Scorch’s ears catch Tantalize’s phrase a whicker. Unable to legitimately process the words, Scorch whickers in return, the sound scratchy and uneasy.

Lyris arrives, though the ex-khaleesi does not notice. Sunday follows quickly and silently, ever the invisible little red whom Scorch attempted to befriend once upon a time. Shivering softly, she moves a single hoof closer to the witch, only to be met by Sunday’s muzzle on her shoulder. Inhaling sharply, the knots in Scorch’s stomach untangle slowly. Bit by bit, breathing becomes natural once more, and the fire within her dims to simple embers; prone to catching, but easily subdued. The energy, while unnameable, soothes Scorch to the point that she raises her head from its dejected position. Although no longer in pain, the woman’s legs falter, and with as much care as she can muster, Scorch leans into Rhy. With some colour returning to her pale, sickly eyes, Scorch meets Sunday’s gaze, a silent thank you passing her closed lips.

Two children join them then, one respectfully distant, the other obliviously close. Blinking down at her little silver girl, Scorch cautiously lowers her head, terrified of triggering another attack. Nuzzling her youngest daughter affectionately and feebly, Scorch exhales upon Sarkis, attempting to sooth her. “I’m okay baby,” She whispers. “I’ll be okay.”

When she lifts her head again, blur-spots enter her vision. Highly disoriented, Scorch moans quietly, nearly collapsing onto Rhy. Straightening to the best of her abilities, the pitiful fire-sister loses track of the meeting, internalizing her pain and dysphoria. Gazing blankly ahead, she falls silent for some time, lost in her own agony and terror.

At the very least, however, she is surrounded by loved ones; and though she may well leave them soon, in those few minutes where all eyes find her, Scorch knows she has never been loved more than by her sisters. And, perhaps, that is all that matters.

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

[prague]

you can't be wild and then be tame

The one advantage to being ancient is that you become the things that surround you. You are able to tune into everyone's bad days, their feelings, their distress. Most of the time it was a burden but sometimes it was the biggest blessing. When you're a practiced magician you come in handy, at least when you're not losing your marbles.

It seems like Prague has brought herself in from the meadow at a pivotal time in the Jungle, she wonders if this distress and uprising is just life's way of balancing but for now she must take the rational out. Although she and Scorch have not had the most endearing relationship, she is a sister and Prague would die for one of her sisters. She wastes no time, she doesn't run but swiftly appears with the group, her long forelock still moving as she stops. She nickers to Firefox, she son knowing he will find her. She knows some faces and they rapidly mesh together, her mind is thinking so quickly that it registers but cannot take the time. She notices Sunday and she, too, can feel her healing properties. Prague cannot pick up just exactly how strong Sunday is but she does not want to overstep her bounds. She has known since her return that Lagertha would be the new Queen, she knows because there's a certain type of woman that demands that position. Lagertha is it, Prague was it long ago. "Lagertha, I am proud of you and many congratulations and discussions I will offer later," she hurriedly dips her head to her, "Sunday, I have been practicing magic for over a hundred years. I can help you if you need it, I can teleport us to the Falls if necessary or we can join together and help here," she says looking around taking a head count. "Sunday, we're better staying here and using our sisters." She isn't positive but time is important and even flight can be risking Scorches life. She hopes that Sunday is not bothered by her, she wants to help - she needs to help to stay alive herself.

immortal. magical. fucked up. amazonian.

 

[Lagertha]

this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more

Yes, Lagertha probably would have killed Scorch if she had given the throne to someone else. Plain and simple. Not because she didn’t respect Rhy, and love her like a flesh-and-blood sister. Not because she doesn’t think anyone else can do it. But because that would have been spiteful, and mean, and a last minute stab in the back, solidifying every single negative opinion Lagertha had ever formed about the naked rat. What Scorch doesn’t know is that Rhy doesn’t want the throne and that ears ago, they were scheming to put the General on the throne.

It just goes to show that Scorch was so out of touch with the kingdom.
Either way, her benevolence only extends so far, and part of her will never forgive Scorch for her previous actions, even if she is dying behind her.

Something needs to be done, and it needs to be done quickly. Lagertha was waiting, hoping that Prague would show up and make everything that much easier. Vyx’s antics bring a twitch to her lips and though there are some that have not come, the show of support - unanimous thus far - is comforting. Her work has paid off, her concerted efforts coming to fruition. But enough about her. Every labored breath that Scorch draws keeps her in danger, so she snaps into command mode.

“The longer Scorch is here, the more danger she’s in. Prague, if you could get her and Sunday to the Falls, as quickly as possible, that would be best. Or as many as you can and wish to go. I will stay behind and inform any other Sisters who come what has happened.” She knows she is not a comforting presence, and awkward at best for those she doesn’t really care for. She cannot help Scorch. It probably seems cold, but the logic is there. The new Khaleesi looks to Rhy, wanting to ask her to stay, but knowing that some things are more important now. Life, for one.

Nevertheless, Rhy is the one sister she wants to have an immediate conversation with. But she can wait.

“When we know everything is ok and you all have returned from the Falls, we can discuss the changes that will take place. I know you all hate meetings as much as I do, but it’s necessary, and this is not the time. Until then - be safe and take care of Scorch. Now go.” She nods to them and then turns to Scorch, lowering her head and murmuring “Be strong, Scorch. Hang in there.”

And then she waits for them to go.
There is much to think about.  

lagertha

carnage x grim reaper; amazonian khaleesi