All the Pretty Little Horses || HESTIA

[Hestia]

She turns and walks away without another word. No more games, if she came, she came. Hestia can just walk it off. It’s not as if she’s never been riled before, just that its been so long that she has no wish to dwell on it. Instead she gets back to the kingdom and spends the next day dealing with the many things that require her attention. Dismissing the events from her mind as soon as she crosses back into her borders. She’s returning from another kingdom when she takes note of the black and green mare against the cliff.

Hestia doesn’t hurry to meet her, there is time. The voice carries to her, confirming her assumptions. The winds kick up grabbing at her tail, toying with her mane and forelock. Hestia is taking on the land in her looks, wild and confident as she wades through the sea grass. Does she want to scream? No, she’d much rather watch the world burn until it offered up to her the one thing that she wants from it. Her children. Then maybe burn some more for payment of its tendency to enjoy her suffering. She’s a bitch, and she likes it. Being a bitch gets you so much further in life then any sweet jane, or timid mary persona ever could. She arrives, standing next to the mare with a ghost of a smile. Glad you could make it.Instead of watching the world burn she quells her temper, patiently waiting for the day to arrive that she can make a move to bring her children back. She will get her children back, someday. However, she can understand the desire to scream. She can understand the need to share, and who knows maybe it will come up. Maybe Rant will have a chance to do as she desires. The day has just begun.

She doesn’t look to the other, not out of any residual anger, far from it. More in companionable silence. Watching the foreboding storm swelling and growling fighting to free itself from its constraints, reaching and clawing its way towards Nerine. She turns her neck, so she can look the other in the eyes, anything in particular that interests you? From this vantage point they can see all the land, the mountains that tuck them securely away from the outside world. The stoic cliffs that buffer the waves from consuming their residents in tsunamis. The beaches that foals frolic on, watched by parents tucked in the caves that offer the privacy for intimate moments… She shakes her head, it’s a beautiful place, and if the mare can’t see that now. Hestia doesn’t know what could convince her of the worth this place has to inspire the protection it so deserves.

HESTIA

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