Desolation comes upon the sky; Sabra/diplomats.

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

Little time passed after Scorch's clipped words before the called upon regent approached. An unhidden expression of disgust crossed the admittedly beautiful mare's face at the sight of Scorch's mutilation, but she let it pass. This was the body she had known and occupied for nigh on a hundred years; she had seen every face one could pull at the sight of her, and had at one time, fought against every one who dared to look at her so. But now, she accepted the revulsion; she was ugly, after all.

Her bite was uglier, though.

Listening carefully to the words exchanged between monarch and subject (listening for any news that might be portrayed between the lines - go to the field, we are weak and without members - you are doing well, we are dependent on you - all inferences that could be wrong, that could be nothing, but that Scorch stores away nonetheless), Scorch waited patiently for her turn to speak, and nodded when it came.

"You are far from mistaken, Queen Sabra." She paused. "I am Scorch, Advisor to Khaleesi Hestia in Nerine." It was a lengthy title, but damned if she wouldn't use it in the one situation where she could. The rat-mare held the queen's crystal blue gaze firmly, feeling the energy between them as almost tangible. Though physically the opposite of Scorch, the two seemed temperamentally matched...

"I come in hopes of securing an alliance with Sylva."

Scorch

Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle