anyone;

[Hestia]

She can see the look in his eyes, its one that she is all to familiar with. One that she wishes she could have about this place. Maybe one day… patience… as it is only time that can offer you the gift of nostalgia. She knows the life, the loving cushy position of people doting on your every whim. Her own antics haphazardly caused just enough trouble that the adults would make a sound between a groan and a chuckle. The spunk in a filly may have been treasured, but the pranks were feared. Eventually it got her sent away to learn some manners. The black mare watches for a moment quiet as she respectfully allows him the moments that she to would be folding up in herself should she have them with this place.

Her voice is soft, not wishing to disturb, she knows to well the reluctance to be pulled away. Hestia remains quiet afterwards, not pushing him to say a thing. Almost distant in her gaze, she too looks to the cave, wondering and imagining what is special about this one in particular. He does respond eventually, and she ghosts a twitch of her lip, in understanding. Sometimes I wond… , she’s interrupted by one of the Nerinian residents. While she appreciates their fervor in their serving, their dedication to making her rule a successful one warms her soul, and the love they have for the land gives her hope for them. Hestia does frown on lack of decorum. All her people hold a special place in her heart, each one of them she treasures, and she hopes to build them up; giving them that connection with the land, each other and herself.

A year ago, she would have been broody, silent, with no ability to show sympathy. Even though she would have secretly sympathized with the male, she’d been adverse to touch, and sharing. But her beloved people refuse to allow this for their queen. They give her their burdens, and in turn ask her to give them hers. It was healing, but it was also painful, as becoming stronger often is. She hopes that with this connection she is able to reach the hearts of the people who live here, to bring them out of their brokenness and heal as they have helped her heal.

Her eyes flashing a warning to the roaned mare. You never know who you may be talking to. Even so, general respect for others is important. Too often in her life she’s experienced the degradation of being a ‘nobody’, and look at where she is now? Most of those who’d looked down their noses at her are whitewashed bones, as she outlives them.

Attention is quickly diverted back to the winged stranger. Well, stranger to her. She knows Nayl, she watched Nayl grow from child to adult. I’m sorry, Nayl is no longer with us.. Her words are tender in their cadence to many times she’s had to hear those words. She pauses giving him time to absorb and understand that she doesn’t know if the mare is alive or dead before she continues.

I remember Nayl as a child, I remember her becoming queen, her daughter Isobell followed in her footsteps. Hestia isn’t sure if these are things that he wants to know or already knows, but she does believe that he deserves to at least know that someone remembers. Understands what it’s like. She pauses before asking, would you like a moment? She can stay, she can go, whatever it is he needs. Hestia steps closer to him brushing her nose to his shoulder. The black mare may not understand herself why she does this, but she does it. Maybe she sees herself in him? Maybe its just sympathy? Maybe she’s just letting him know that he’s not alone. For whatever reason, they’ve met, and for whatever reason she senses some form of connection with him.

HESTIA

The devil whispered in my ear, “you’ll never survive the storm”
I whispered back, “I am the storm”

I LOVE Castille!!! <33333