lost to these linens / hestia, scorch, & any

[Hestia]

Hestia is well being Hestia. Sulking and mulling over pointless thoughts, pondering the why’s, how’s, and cranky what ifs of her daily monotony. It’s almost a religion in how she thinks on every possibility and every possible angle of every possible decision she possibly could make in the coming days. Or has made in the past several months. Another whirlwind picked up immediately after the last one settled. She is sure that as soon as this one is over another will happen. She feels it in her bones. She doesn’t know that this whirlwind will be turning into a full-fledged hurricane that will consume Beqanna in its uptake.

She will end up on top though, of that she will make sure of…. has made sure of. Oblivion tags along at her side day and night attempting to convince her of what it truly is, of how much she “loves” it. Bile rises at the mere thought of “loving” it. Still she can’t bring herself to chase it away. They’ve formed something over these last months together. At least she doesn’t have to feed it. That much is a comfort to her. She blinks her eyes into focus again when the weak call of a child warbles on the air.

She begins to walk in the direction of the call, Oblivion quick on her heels. It’s uncanny how it doesn’t need to check its footing, as blind as it is. Or how nothing is unexpected, or surprising for it. Part of being a Demon my love. And telepathy has its benefits. Her lip curls at hearing those words, and a sore spot in her soul begins to ache depressingly once again longing for a certain musky scented male she’d brought back home, but not heard from since... Cold and alone she feels desperate for company to pull her from her ever darkening moods. To long she’s pulled back from her friends, and the self-imposed isolation is wearing on her. Even as she knows this, it doesn’t help the cold loneliness that begins to fill her now.

When she comes into view of the foal, she spots Scorch close by. A sigh escapes, almost like she can breathe again. The loneliness slipping away for a brief second at the sight of someone familiar. Hestia doesn’t smile and her eyes don’t light up or sparkle as Scorch does. But they are not as cold or hard as they once were. She doesn’t threaten or throw daggers as she used to. Time changes everyone for good or ill, and sometimes it sways between the two as a pendulum. Right now she takes comfort in being near a friend, but doesn’t reach out as she normally does. The black queen believes that she needs space right now after this thing refuses to leave her alone making her feel suffocated with every nostril flapping breath it takes. I’m Hestia, Welcome.

The thing just looks in the filly’s direction, head cocked oddly, its lid covered eyes facing the new comer, as the piece of its nostril flaps with each breath it takes. Onyx scales flash their rainbow iridescence against the rays of sun. It can’t know how terrifying it looks, as it can not express anything, even the curiosity it feels comes out wrong in its sickly slimy way. Would Wishbone turn tail and squeal all the way home after seeing this? Without intending to Hestia presents the princess with her first challenge. Oblivion’s fear aura isn’t to over powering, but still even the black queen is left feeling ill at ease when around it to long. Hello, I’m Oblivion, it speaks in Wishbone’s and Scorch’s minds.

HESTIA

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

@[Wishbone] @[Scorch] @[Warrick]