Under the shady oak tree [Isobell/City/Any]

[Hestia]

sweet as sugar, hard as ice.
if you hurt me once, i'll kill you twice.

Time once more slips away from her. The Amazon’s rocky start had quickly devolved into a power-hungry bicker fest. Not something that she took interest in; when on the mountain she had declared that her intent was to make things better. However, when fear and panic control the mares, swaying them from their path is impossible. Thus, she steps away, falling into that blissful repose until such a time as they would be settle their spirits and act. They needed to be willing to make the Amazon’s a name to be feared and loved once more. In the past, they had been a banner for oppressed females, a haven for foals, and a place that males were not pressured to be the stereotypical macho man. Now? What were they? All she could see was bitterness; maybe she was wrong, maybe the Amazon females had simply softened their touch. If that was so, then they were just pathetic in her eyes.

All the confusion washes away as she reposes. Listening, waiting, and finally something stirs. Something old and deep; almost gone, just barely a whisper, wake. The breeze tickled her ears, the salty air filling her nostrils. Lids crack open, crusty and blurry with lack of use. It takes a moment, or longer for the pain to settle. Fucking sun , she grumbles as she squints to establish her bearings. The cliff, not two feet away, stands sharp and condescending over the ocean; a bulwark against the winds and waves vicious attacks. The black sand glistens wet in the morning light. Grudgingly she must admit it’s a beautiful place the Fairies gifted them. A far cry from the forest that she grew up in, but still its own little nuances have a certain appeal. Birds screech in the sky, calling to each other. Her ears swivel back and her tail whips the sand in irritation. Apparently recovering from death doesn’t happen overnight. If there is anything she would miss from that place, it would be the quiet. In her ghostly form, it was as if something buffered all the sounds from this world, the colors dulled, and scents were non-existent. She couldn’t drink or eat anything to discover flavor, nor could she feel anything either. She existed, yet did not.

With a shake of her mane she clambers to her feet. ‘Enough of that’, her inner voice chides. Blinking away the last of the blur. How long had she been away? How many queens had traded the throne in her absence? The land is no longer new, that much is for certain. Trails, and well-worn paths crisscross the cliff and the channel to the mainland, if that was any indication. She eyes the trial thoughtfully, half tempted to follow it. But the new sound quickly snatches her attention away, along with its scent.

Hestia

@[Isobell]
@[City]
anyone else is welcome to join.