"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The crumbling cliff falls away at her feet as she perches precariously at its edge. The wind whistles across the vast, open water, snatching at her tangled locks and slipping past her laced blue and white skin. She pays little mind to the way the wind tugs at her, pulling her mane into a wild disarray, gentle fingers futilely attempting to draw those wayward strands along. She breathes deeply of the familiar air, scents of sand and salt overlaying the softer smell of the water.
She had left Nerine, but she had never truly been gone. Heartfire had always been there, unseen and unheard, but present nonetheless. Nerine is her kingdom, and always would be. It could not leave her behind any more than she could leave it behind.
Perhaps they had moved forward (nothing stands still, after all. Especially not this kingdom), but she would ensure they had not forgotten her. She had done too much for this kingdom, and if there is anything stronger than this kingdom, it is only the iron of her will.
A new queen might reign, but she would learn quickly just what Heartfire meant to this kingdom. And what the kingdom meant to her. She does not come crawling back pitiful and meek, and she would have her due. Perhaps she and this new Queen Hesita could come to an accord. Perhaps not. Either way, she would find quickly that Heartfire does not beg. She might ask politely, or she might simply take, but never would she beg.
Casting her sight out, she finds the new Queen, replacing her sight temporarily with a vision of the coastline she now stands upon. Her unique calling card, a way to draw the woman to her. It had to be disorienting for someone who had never experienced it before (it has been too long since Heartfire had known anything but her unique sight, so she could not say for certain), but if the woman were any kind of queen at all, she would immediately investigate such a thing. And that suits Heartfire’s purposes just fine.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there... dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before... Loving with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe
So much is happening, it’s a whirlwind of events. And it’s a good thing, its not the typical bustle of ‘we have a new queen, everyone freak out’, things are going so much more smoothly than she ever dreamed to be possible. On top of that, residents are coming around, faces that she knows personally, and names she has heard whispered of in the past. They come, not to the meeting, but afterwards. Scorch is bringing in young children, raising them to be loyal to their home. The scheming hairless beast that she is, Hestia can’t help but smile secretly. She sees the effort, she sees all their efforts. It’s working, the monster of a kingdom is being coaxed back to life. This is all she hoped for and more. Long ago she had given up on expectations and hope, silently quelling her soul into cynicism; until nothing remained but scorn.
She is grateful that the kingdom should be handed to her in this state. It’s fitting, she had hoped to whisper in influential ears; stoking their fire by whatever means to get them to act and bring the kingdom to its roots. Fate seemed to have something entirely different in mind; choosing instead to entrust the kingdom to her directly. At first, she had balked at the idea. She was terrified of taking on a public role. Becoming a figure, figures can fail, figures are not forgotten, figures are held to a higher standard, worst of all figures are expected to explain their actions. She liked being forgotten and looked over, having the freedom to come and go as she will. She had thought that the residents would be just as resistant to the change, since she was not one to be recognized on sight. Would they even recognize her as a part of their collection? So many questions had tumbled around in her head. Then it came time to announce. Even with no expectations she had been devastated by the lack of inhabitants.
Now though, now she dares to hope, and allows the cynical outlook to slip slightly. The kingdom has consumed every moment of her time. She has yet to leave its borders, to busy organizing and taking care of matters here then to be out recruiting and dealing with diplomatic meetings. She doesn’t even have time to think of them. They are never far from her soul however, and her search for them isn’t over. It’s just put to the side for now, as she focuses all her energy on the tasks at hand. The things she can actually fix right now.
She’s consuming a quick snake when her vision shifts. The black sand glittering wet in the sunlight. It’s completely empty but for one figure that centers itself in her focus. Hestia’s ears warble and she needs to spread her legs slightly to keep her balance. A snort and a quick shake of her head takes the vertigo from her. It’s not the greatest feeling, but not nearly as bad as mind readers. Those guys she loathes encounters with, their probing is painful, and they often like to announce everything it is that they hear. Sometimes even making shit up, or simply reading expressions to make educated guesses. Either way mind readers are the real assholes to watch out for. It always feels like swords cutting down her walls when those idiots try to sneak in. This is a new sensation, and one that she has never encountered before. All she can think of is being grateful that something isn’t screaming into her head. Not stupid enough to just go straight towards the figure, Hestia stops along the cliff first looking down, to make sure that it is actually what she had seen and not some fucking illusion.
Seeing the figure for real this time she has a feeling, that this is the creature that gave her the vision in the first place. She sees no one else, and sees no reason not to go to her, so Hestia does what she does best. She investigates. Leisurely making her way down the narrow trail that zigzags its way to the coast. Upon reaching the coast she makes her way towards the woman, the old hag may not be smiling, but she is slightly amused by the antic. That’s a hell o’ way to get someone’s attention. Emerald eyes look over the woman before her, she doesn’t seem the kind to just project randomly, so she must already know who the old bitch is. But she doesn’t recognize this young lady. Had she come after her time? Or had they just never crossed one another’s paths? Whatever the case, Hestia nods in greeting, assuming that she didn’t need to give her name.
The roan mare presents an innocuous figure, seemingly uninteresting upon first glance. She is neither particularly small nor particularly large. Her frame is slender, angular, neither muscular nor fragile. She possesses neither great beauty nor any particular uncomeliness. Her only outstanding feature is the piercing blue of her eyes. One would never guess at the power she could wield so carelessly if they did not know her well.
She watches Hestia approach, though her eyes do not follow. She has easier ways of watching what she wishes, an ability that is as natural to her as breathing. She had watched Nerine like this throughout her absence, never truly as gone as perhaps they had supposed. Hestia would hear no excuse from her, for she had none to give. It simply was not needed.
Her gaze remains fixed upon the crashing waves of the ocean far below her as the kingdom’s newly crowned queen approaches with caution. Heartfire cannot fault her for her discretion. They had never met in person before this day. Perhaps Hesita had heard her name once upon a time (Heartfire certainly has never been quiet in her presence), but she certainly would have no face to put to such knowledge.
Finally, when the mare comes to a halt near her, Heartfire turns her icy blue gaze to the darker woman. One brow notches up a bit sardonically at the woman’s statement. After a moment’s silence, Heartfire responds simply, somewhat rhetorically, “It works, does it not?”
For a long moment, Heartfire merely studies the woman. While it’s true she had done her fair share of spying upon the black mare, there is nothing quite like seeing something in the flesh, so to speak. Finally, after a somewhat lengthy pause, Heartfire continues. “I am Heartfire, and we have much to discuss, you and I.”
Hestia has never been one to judge on appearance, as she does not fuss over her own. Slightly curvy due to Arab blood, a little smaller than her father, larger than her mother. Glossy black as is a common color. She is slender in weight, and muscle, but her bones are thicker as draft blood runs through her veins. It’s quite a strange mix, but muddled together on her, she looks how you’d expect an average young black mare to look. Pretty, but not all that fancy. How others can pick her out of a crowd still befuddles her. Maybe its her eyes? she does have strange eyes. Vibrant green, sharp in their stare. Right now, though they focus more on the water, as the wind whips long hairs across her vision. The female next to her replies, and Hestia doesn’t bother with answering back, it would just be a repetition of what she had already said. No reason to do that.
The water is calm right now, lying flat against the horizon, the sky above full of white fluffy clouds, with bright rays of sun peeking out from behind one particularly large one. The backdrop is crystal blue, pure in its unmarred paint. Nerine is beautiful in this way, though it took Hestia a long time to be able to appreciate it. At first she found it harsh, cold, and wet. So used to the Jungle and the loud thick foliage. Even louder animals who took residence with the women. How anyone could love this place she had no idea. But she didn’t complain, too happy to have a place to set some roots again. The mare is quiet, and Hestia can feel her gaze on her, so the queen turns from the shining waters to her companion. They lock eyes, reading each other, measuring and studying as to how much respect would be given/received. Hestia is undecided when the silence breaks, though she is open to hear what the other has to say. The wheels turning in her own head as to what this mare could possibly want. She continues to look to the other expectantly. There is nothing she can say right now. She is open to hearing the woman out, to debate on whatever it is that she desires.
Maybe they will come to an understanding, maybe they won’t. First things first, knowing what it is that there is to discuss. She’s given her name, and sadly it rings no bells for Hestia, she must have come after her time, but that matters little these days. If she’s got something to offer the kingdom then by all means the black mare is ready to let the talk begin. So, she waits comfortable in their quiet, understanding that matters would unfold naturally and she doesn’t need to make awkward small talk for once.
HESTIA
The devil whispered in my ear, “you’ll never survive the storm” I whispered back, “I am the storm”
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