WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

The hours drew into days drew into weeks drew into months drew into the present: the summoning of the meeting. Scorch calls to them the moment the Desert’s Queens depart. Their answer was slow in coming, relaxed, but Scorch will not mirror their placated characters. Reminiscing – and grieving – her sunshine queen (regardless of their parting) Scorch draws close to the Grandfather tree. Its swooping branches crawl softly against her smooth, hairless skin, the sensation invocative, as though the Jungle herself embraces her. Light glints in Scorch’s teal dragon eyes, their depths roaming the clearing about her. As the howlers scream, the parrots squawk, and the tigers cry, Scorch raises her own voice, calling to the legendary warrior women of old.

They trickle in slowly at first, the brazen and the timid alike, until all at once, they are amongst their Khaleesi. The fire-sister greets each with a dip of her large-boned head, though silence stretches between them until most who will come, have. There are more than whence last she called them together, yet many are new, and few of the old remain.

“Sisters and Brothers, thank you for meeting me here beneath the Grandfather tree.” Charred lips quirk upwards in a small, nostalgic smile as she begins the meeting, deep voice carrying to the very edges of the crowd, though she does not yell. “There are many new faces before me today. Today, there shall be an initiation directly proceeding the matters of business. It is my hope that some of you will feel the Jungle’s call in your hearts.”

(Alright, I see how this might seem slightly cultish. Do the members of the Jungle? Of course not. It’s a kingdom full of women. They’re going to be slightly insane, okay?)

“Firstly, welcome Alptraum, Nayl, Ephrelle, Yronwood, Dorne, Wrynn, Leiland, Vyx, and Naga, to the Jungle. Please enjoy your childhoods, or your stays.” Piercing teal eyes browse the crowd, hoping to catch the latest arrivals, be they by recruiting, choice, or birth. Scorch understands the importance of including the children in the meetings; once, some thirty years ago, Scorch had been very like a few of the youngster, eager and determined to please their mother. (And oh, how she has).

“Secondly, I am pleased to announce that our alliance with the Deserts continues, more strongly than ever.” Thank god Kagerou – or any other empath/telepath/magician – does not happen to inhabit the Jungle right as she speaks this. Scorch, as Khaleesi, remains very pleased with the alliance, and believes it stronger than ever. Scorch, as… Scorch… Cannot help chewing on the thought of Camrynn like a piece of gum. But I digress. “As for the Valley, we were close to making a decision as to where we stood but they have not returned our call. I would not be against having an agreement to open fire, though the shots would be but blanks. Steals and challenges for three month periods – one week in real life – could spice life up a bit. The Jungle groans with staleness, as I’m sure you all know. But please, your opinions on the matter shall be heard.”

For but an instant, the chaos of their surroundings can be heard clearly. Scorch hesitates, and perhaps it shows in the moment of silence. Alas, she must speak. “The Gates’ crown is on the move. We can no longer rely on them solely by blood.” Her voice is calm, projected. She proposed takeover once. Never again.

“The Falls have yet to send diplomats. With this meeting, we may be able to organize parties to visit each kingdom, and thus alert the Falls of our want of an alliance. If, of course, that is still what each of you would wish for the Jungle.” Personally, Scorch fancies that in a time of need, Prague would prance her fat ass around and poof them all better with a pinch of fairy dust. This, however, will not please everyone, so the baroque obliges to their wants.

“Errant has assumed the throne of the Tundra, though I have not heard from him since the upheaval of Mad king Mountain. Alas, considering the part we played in the mutiny, I figure that an alliance is guaranteed, whether Simeon joins my brother on the throne or not. The Tundra grows strong, Sisters, and I believe that our trust is best placed in them.

“Concerning the Dale, all has been silent. Dalten and Ea – Lagertha’s son and my daughter – have not yet been sent, as they are very young. The time draws nigh, however. We shall soon become aware of their doings.”

“If anyone would like to join a caste, please say so now. Rhy and Lagertha are our respective caste leaders, and should you need guidance, they will hold the most knowledge.” Tilting her large head towards the golden Avthillar and the gray Jakka, Scorch opens the floor for them. “If either of you feel inclined to organize mocks or kingdom visits, please do so.”

With the matters of the secret meetings aside and the sharing of the mike completed, Scorch looks to each Sister, grieves the ones who have gone, and rejoices in those who are new, those who are vital to the Jungle’s continuation. “Please, speak freely on the matters which lay heavy on your minds. For those who’s mind wander to the oath, I now present to you the floor. If – and only if - you feel within yourself that the Jungle encompasses all that you look for in a home, in a family, in a life, then you shall say the oath and receive the tattoo of a vine upon your right foreleg, and a red blossom on your chest. The Jungle shall also grant you a personal tattoo. But beware: should you betray the Jungle or your Sisters, the red slash of a traitor shall replace the red blossom and forever mark you as a traitor. If these terms of servitude do not dissuade your decision, repeat after me: ‘To the Jungle, I swear my service in life and death. To this kingdom, I swear my blood and my body. To my Sisters and Brothers, I swear my loyalty and love.’” She paused; smiles. “Welcome to the Sisterhood.”

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle