She is quick on Scorch’s heels and hears her introduction clearly enough. The black of her mane and tail are wind swept. She knows she looks wild female and fierce as she approaches the group. Slipping in where she has a wide berth from others. She still can’t bring herself to touch anyone. Not even one that she’d considered friend. Though that word holds little meaning for her these days. The thing tags by her side. After the meeting with Brennen she’d though it would be better to have it not attend any more politics in the future. They spent days arguing it over, in the end the most logical argument won out. It could tell her what they were all thinking.
She stands there vacant in expression. Not needing to introduce herself. Even if she isn’t trying to be rude, Hestia doesn’t really even nod. She listens, wondering if this thing would destroy the alliance she has with Hyaline. If Solace would turn tail and run at the sight of it. She’d hoped to one day begin a friendship with Solace herself, but now would that queen even want to look at her if Kagerus has already told her about Oblivion? Hestia can already feel the rift between herself and Scorch. The lull of illusion had taken her in. She’d found what she thought was friendship with several in her kingdom, she found security in alliances, and now she is once again alone. No, she’d always been alone.
The jackals are here, they stand over her corpse triumphantly. She’s already a bygone queen trampled to the wayside as new and younger rulers take the spotlight, and those under her begin to conspire her official demise. She’s already ripe for the taking. They don’t trust her anymore. They look at her, and all she sees is the shadow of suspicion and fear in their eyes. She wants to reach out, wants to feel real again. She can’t, if she does she fears she will crumble to dust being carried off on the wind and forgotten. If she leans on her once friend, they will all see her weakness. She can’t let any see her weak. They already want her dead. The black queen’s mind reels with all these possibilities day and night.
Often, she wakes in a night terror, sweating, screaming, cold, and alone. She must bath that day away several times a day. They can’t find out. No one can know. They will rip her apart if she slips up. The more time she spends around the thing the more the fears consume. The fears that once kept her sharp and on top, now build and stretch her until she flicks her eyes to Scorch looking at her suspiciously. What was the once queen planning? She likes power, is the power that she has now not enough? If Oblivion’s fear aura hadn’t been working on her constantly over these summer months maybe she would see the ridiculousness of that thought, of all these thoughts. But now these are just the daily madness that consumes her.
Sochi should be here soon, these are the first words she speaks. They sound so normal, so foreign on her lips. The thing still stands by her. She keeps her distance from the others. She looks around the group wondering what they are thinking. Knowing that at any moment she can ask Oblivion and the demon would tell her. One would think that this would bring comfort, and security. It doesn’t, she begins to question their thoughts. She knows that thoughts can still hold lies. Before she begins trembling and clammy sweat starts to pour out on her glossy body she changes the course her mind is on. They have three strong alliances, they have a spy branch being built, she’s given them tasks that they must fulfill. The foal trading is underway. She is currently working with a few new members in Nerine. She needs to meet with Sylva’s new leader, along with Loess.
The last one she thinks that she will bring up today and see what Solace thinks of the him. Thinking on tasks seems to help, visibly she relaxes, and she stops thinking on her fears. If she’s a bygone she’s a bygone. If she’s still on top she’s still on top. She likes to think that Nerine is still on top. They are strong with strong alliances. They are not good they are not evil they are not neutral. They are just Nerine, warriors, loved and feared. At least she hopes so. No one tells her what they think of Nerine so she has no idea. She can only hope. But those fears…
HESTIA
The devil whispered in my ear, you’ll never survive the storm
I whispered back, I am the storm
![[Image: 345k45w.jpg]](http://i65.tinypic.com/345k45w.jpg)