Under the old oak tree [Mirage/Any]

[Hestia]

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

Hestia has a terrible habit of tensing up when others pry into her world of thoughts. This makes small talk and friendships strained, it’s worse when she tries to maintain those relations. This does not make her into a bumbling antisocial pest; if anything, it makes her more social… that is when a conversation has a goal. Hestia’s favorite goals in conversation usually orientate around politics, kingdom errands, and recruiting. It’s all so impersonal and her sharp wit keeps conversations on track. It could be said that conversation is her forte, but who’s bragging? As quickly as he started to pry Walter seems to drop the topic and with that she relaxes as much as is possible for her.

She finds herself pausing at his response. Oh the irony, everyone searches for significance, and yet you can take to the skies and find that all they strive for is inconsequential. She can’t help the laughter that bubbles out her throat, but it’s not a pretty sound. Left unused for the last century (well except for when Bowie decides to pay her a visit) she can’t be sure if it can even be called a laugh. More of an ugly scratch of a bark it doesn’t last long, a few breaths and she is calmed once more. No matter if it’s from your skies, or my expanse of time; the definition of life is trivial. He’s impressed the black hag though, and she finds herself curious as to who it is that can draw a laugh from her.

She is startled when finally discovering his true appearance. A small piece shoved far in the back of her mind remembers another winged palomino with a bad attitude, a nightmare of a creature. The rest of her mind is dazzled, and doesn’t know what to make of him or how to connect his personality with the angelic appearance before her. Looking like that, she would have avoided him at all costs in any other situation. She has one peppy personality already in her life, and no desire for another. Just another reminder to kick her cynicism down a notch. Names exchanged, the rest of the trek is silent.

When arriving at the entrance of the cave she cringes against the idea of sharing space. Especially with a winged horse, she can’t imagine him getting those wings dry if they are folded up after being in this gale. Taking a deep breath she saunters into the hole turning and pressing herself as close as she can to the wall. Glancing his way, she feels a little sorry for his predicament and chooses to move closer to the entrance so that his wings stand a chance at drying. This is going to be a long one, the voice in her head gloats. She could just see it gleaming hungry for some chance to weasel its way further into her psych. She glances again at Walter, shifting awkwardly but doing her best not to press into him. Shivering, large droplets weep down her coat; she doesn’t really know how to pass the time, so the first thing that comes to mind comes out. Are you comfortable? probably not, but still; maybe there is something more she can do to ease this tension between new acquaintances.

Hestia

@[Walter] Yesss! Adorable, and hilarious