Another scent comes drifting down the Nerinian wind and Aletta turns her head, peering over the rolling moorlands to see where it comes from. An ear flicks towards Scorch while the gray mare is studying the landscape, listening to what she has to say about her own stubbornness and loyalty. About how the tattooed mare had once been both diplomat and warrior, a balance of both worlds.
Aletta can’t study the horizon for long. Scorch’s claim to flame literally ignites from her proud, Baroque chest.
The crackling of it distracted her momentarily (as did the abruptness of it), long enough for the bald-faced mare to approach while Aletta still eyed the fire. Magic. Outside of family and friends, it was something to be regarded with distrust and suspicion. She doesn’t feel either of those emotions when she looks at Scorch. That unsettles her.
Over the flames comes the voice of another mare. Aletta lifts her head and returns her gaze with a blatant one of her own. She studies the stark white of her face and the red windswept cracks that line it. A sweeping glance studies her wounds and while she doesn’t visibly react to them, it is clear that the dappled mare has experienced an ordeal or two. The dark outline of wings marks her shoulders - in a similar way to Scorch wears her flower - and Aletta silently wonders if the women can claim some affinity.
She doesn’t know what a Ghaul is and decides it’s best if she doesn’t ask. Aletta turns her attention back to Scorch when the burning mare shifts her weight to the left. Learning that not only could her companion fight dragons, she beat them. She learns that not only was she a former ruler of this land but that it preceded another: the Jungle and Scorch ruled there as well.
The tattoo, she realizes. It was a mark of the Jungle.
It’s not often that the former Regent is surprised but the former Amazonian manages it. "Wait," Aletta starts, speaking as soon as she realizes that Scorch means to leave. That all those familiar faces she knew were gone so why should she stay? "You know me by now, don't you Silver Tongue?" The gray mare asks her traveling companion, tilting her head towards Scorch before looking back at the bald-faced mare. "And Nerine here must have a name."
we turned our back on ordinary from the start
photo credit to charlie---x