[mature] I sold my soul for this [Pollock]

[Hestia]

She’s wandering again. It’s still a habit. Even if she doesn’t like to admit it. She’s wandered so long. She doesn’t think that she will ever be able to change that about herself. Even if she stays put in kingdom life, there is going to always be a piece of her exploring the world. Watching conversations in the meadow, forest, and river. Several years of doing this with Pollock, doing this with the Jungle, the Dale, the Valley, it’s become routine. So routine that she couldn’t tell you where it is that she is going right now. Her legs just gotta move.

So many new people, so many of them old acquaintances. Some she knows has good intentions, others she knows only talk to her because of who she is now. She still grows suspicious. Habits. They just won’t die. Secretly she suspects her friends of ulterior motive. She doesn’t see it as its her. Hestia. They don’t look for her, she happens across them. Always. She’d much rather see it as they are looking to make her uncomfortable, looking to try and keep her from her non-existent existence. She doesn’t see it as a simply the chance encounters they are. But she’s learning to. Her trust of them is coming around slowly. She’s even beginning to see her encounter with Pollock as just that, a chance, one in a million chances that they would meet and come to know one another in ways no one else would ever even come close.

Could they have been considered friends? When all was said and done, when life just screws them from what they originally wanted. And they find that its better moving forward because of those chance encounters? If they can see every intimate struggle every murder, every moment then and after they commit it. Then learn to stand there quietly, further learning to understand the person. Why they do it… if that isn’t considered friends then the word shouldn’t exist. Who said anything about ‘good’ friends, ‘healthy’ friends, or the like.

She’d like to thank him, she doesn’t think that she ever did that. Ever had the chance to do that. She’d had the chance to thank Fennick, and then tell him to go do himself. But with Pollock it’s a different thanks, one she doesn’t fully understand. Just that she knows she wants to say it. The forest is quiet and she has probably wandered a little ways past Nerine now, though not that far off. As the day is still young, doesn’t matter all that much, its her legs that are in control not her head. The air is warm, the birds cease chirping, the trees grow thicker, darkening the land under them. Why is she thinking of this sort of stuff? She shakes her head trying to clear it stopping by a small trickling stream for a sip before continuing on. Think of something else Hestia, think of the trees and their majestic beauty, or the robin and his soothing song. Why so gloomy? Must you always brood so?

HESTIA

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

@[Pollock]- let me know if you need anything changed. Putting mature on as I'm sure they will get more raw in their language as they typically do lol.