09-09-2016, 07:37 PM
She has felt nothing for so long, every sensation, every feeling is new and fresh. It’s all such a wonder, such a delicious new world to her, as if she were born a babe once more. She closes her eyes a moment, lifting her head to feel the flakes kiss her face, then Lagertha calls her attention. She wants to laugh, her soul is warmed by the coldness, by the hate, the lovely desire for hate. She adores the woman, adores them all, she hates the woman, she hates them all. She feels and it is much much better than the nothingness she has known for so long. Naga narrowly makes her cut, sliding into the conversation, rattling their cages, piercing through the fog of newness for them all, and again she wants to laugh. She doesn’t though she remains standing listening, watching from the distance of her mind.
She is ready to move on, ready to say the one thing she does need to say, when Nayl pipes up, dragging the conversation back to the previous topic. Her eyes narrow at the two for a moment. She says nothing to address them, not yet, she gazes at them a corner of her lip ghosts a smile for a fleeting moment before it is gone. She turns from them, nodding to the newcomers, and then more words from Nayl, this woman would not let things go would she? A low breezy chuckle echoes from Hestia’s nares, it is not loud, just under her breath. But she has pushed one to many things to far. Lagertha speaks, and she nods, no, she bows out of respect. They could disagree on some points, but they were of same mind on this. When she finishes, Hestia waits for the others to cast their votes. Only then does Hestia begin her own thoughts. Naga, sisters of the Jungle, many of you do not know me, many of you do not remember me, and those that do. Probably. Do not remember past the last two years of my life. Before I was murdered. She turns again to look at Lagertha with a ghost of a smile, before breaking the gaze and looking to those around her. This is not the first time the Amazons have experienced tragedy; this is not the first time the Jungle has been stripped from us. What is the first, is this. She gestures to the low hanging heads, the lateness of their arrivals, their lack of fire, and desire to find justice. Their submissiveness to this event. The bitter bickering that has started within moments of their arrival. I was there when the Jungle fell in on itself banning us from its heart. I was there when a demon reigned and clawed itself from our queen’s loins. I was there when the jungle cat manifested, when the spirit intertwined with our souls living, breathing life, on our skin, when the vines shriveled from our bodies, repulsed by our hearts. She stops here a sadness overcoming her. She finds her pity, she finds the age that she has become, and looks beseechingly around the group. Vulnerable, laying bare all things that she has seen. Never once has she spoken of these events, never once has she shown others the grief she bears, the crushing knowledge she holds.
Her vocals are husky with emotion, a tear sheds, only the second one to ever fall from her face in front of anyone. Only once has she let her tears overcome her, and this was not within the sight of anyone, or anything. She feels tired, she feels the heaviness of her burden. Hear me now sisters, the Jungle has always been returned to us. This time I do not feel the hope of a return. Let this be the lesson to always remember what it is we do. Let us find justice for those that cry out in pain, let us give of ourselves so that Beqanna remembers our heartache, and finds mercy in her heart for us. We were honored with the ability to be one with the land, we were honored with the blessing of Beqanna walking by our side. In taking from Beqanna we must give back to Beqanna. I have spilled my blood with the sisters led by Anarchist and Prague to remember the lessons Beqanna has taught. I have allowed the Jungle cat to slash me open to examine my soul, and it was found blessed. I have been charged to remind the sisters of their transgressions, and tell them why we follow tradition. She looks from one to the next, finally looking to Nayl and Lagertha again, the weight of her world seeping through the cracks of her stoic face. One by one they all died off, they forgot to pass on their knowledge, they forgot to pass the memories to the next generation. I kept silent watching and waiting for someone to come and ask. No one did. She pauses again, her age forcing her to slow, the pain of the dead rushing around within her. She finds her voice again, I left the sisters in peace, expecting to return to them one day. My time was cut short, but now Beqanna has blessed me with a little more time to complete the task I never finished. This will be the last time I help the sisters; She looks from one to the other grimly taking them in finally her eyes fall to Naga, Lagertha is right, you deserve a chance, I have watched you grow, I have watched you learn to control your tongue, now I will watch you learn to find your strength. Prove to us you are capable of leading. And sisters prove to me that you are worthy of the Jungles memories. Never before had Hestia thrown her weight around, never had she spoken of any of the memories she knows. Never before has she let the pain of sisters past, their screams, their deaths, the smell of their blood, the heartbreaking closeness to the land of Beqanna herself come to the surface. Never, she hated it, she hated her position, she hated the love she felt for the sisters. She hated her love for her mother, she hated the starry eyed loving of a man that drew her from her home. She hated it all, but still the love was there, and she couldn’t do anything to keep it from forcing her to do stuff. To do stuff like this, to open herself up to the scorn, doubt, and words of the sisters or anyone else. They could see her as crazy for all she cared, the words were out there. If they didn’t listen, she doubted Beqanna would grant them a home at all. The sisters fought for justice, they gathered for love, they suffered for Beqanna. Today they suffer for their sins.
OOC: Sorry this is so long x.x Hestia gets a little passionate about the Amazons lol.
She is ready to move on, ready to say the one thing she does need to say, when Nayl pipes up, dragging the conversation back to the previous topic. Her eyes narrow at the two for a moment. She says nothing to address them, not yet, she gazes at them a corner of her lip ghosts a smile for a fleeting moment before it is gone. She turns from them, nodding to the newcomers, and then more words from Nayl, this woman would not let things go would she? A low breezy chuckle echoes from Hestia’s nares, it is not loud, just under her breath. But she has pushed one to many things to far. Lagertha speaks, and she nods, no, she bows out of respect. They could disagree on some points, but they were of same mind on this. When she finishes, Hestia waits for the others to cast their votes. Only then does Hestia begin her own thoughts. Naga, sisters of the Jungle, many of you do not know me, many of you do not remember me, and those that do. Probably. Do not remember past the last two years of my life. Before I was murdered. She turns again to look at Lagertha with a ghost of a smile, before breaking the gaze and looking to those around her. This is not the first time the Amazons have experienced tragedy; this is not the first time the Jungle has been stripped from us. What is the first, is this. She gestures to the low hanging heads, the lateness of their arrivals, their lack of fire, and desire to find justice. Their submissiveness to this event. The bitter bickering that has started within moments of their arrival. I was there when the Jungle fell in on itself banning us from its heart. I was there when a demon reigned and clawed itself from our queen’s loins. I was there when the jungle cat manifested, when the spirit intertwined with our souls living, breathing life, on our skin, when the vines shriveled from our bodies, repulsed by our hearts. She stops here a sadness overcoming her. She finds her pity, she finds the age that she has become, and looks beseechingly around the group. Vulnerable, laying bare all things that she has seen. Never once has she spoken of these events, never once has she shown others the grief she bears, the crushing knowledge she holds.
Her vocals are husky with emotion, a tear sheds, only the second one to ever fall from her face in front of anyone. Only once has she let her tears overcome her, and this was not within the sight of anyone, or anything. She feels tired, she feels the heaviness of her burden. Hear me now sisters, the Jungle has always been returned to us. This time I do not feel the hope of a return. Let this be the lesson to always remember what it is we do. Let us find justice for those that cry out in pain, let us give of ourselves so that Beqanna remembers our heartache, and finds mercy in her heart for us. We were honored with the ability to be one with the land, we were honored with the blessing of Beqanna walking by our side. In taking from Beqanna we must give back to Beqanna. I have spilled my blood with the sisters led by Anarchist and Prague to remember the lessons Beqanna has taught. I have allowed the Jungle cat to slash me open to examine my soul, and it was found blessed. I have been charged to remind the sisters of their transgressions, and tell them why we follow tradition. She looks from one to the next, finally looking to Nayl and Lagertha again, the weight of her world seeping through the cracks of her stoic face. One by one they all died off, they forgot to pass on their knowledge, they forgot to pass the memories to the next generation. I kept silent watching and waiting for someone to come and ask. No one did. She pauses again, her age forcing her to slow, the pain of the dead rushing around within her. She finds her voice again, I left the sisters in peace, expecting to return to them one day. My time was cut short, but now Beqanna has blessed me with a little more time to complete the task I never finished. This will be the last time I help the sisters; She looks from one to the other grimly taking them in finally her eyes fall to Naga, Lagertha is right, you deserve a chance, I have watched you grow, I have watched you learn to control your tongue, now I will watch you learn to find your strength. Prove to us you are capable of leading. And sisters prove to me that you are worthy of the Jungles memories. Never before had Hestia thrown her weight around, never had she spoken of any of the memories she knows. Never before has she let the pain of sisters past, their screams, their deaths, the smell of their blood, the heartbreaking closeness to the land of Beqanna herself come to the surface. Never, she hated it, she hated her position, she hated the love she felt for the sisters. She hated her love for her mother, she hated the starry eyed loving of a man that drew her from her home. She hated it all, but still the love was there, and she couldn’t do anything to keep it from forcing her to do stuff. To do stuff like this, to open herself up to the scorn, doubt, and words of the sisters or anyone else. They could see her as crazy for all she cared, the words were out there. If they didn’t listen, she doubted Beqanna would grant them a home at all. The sisters fought for justice, they gathered for love, they suffered for Beqanna. Today they suffer for their sins.
OOC: Sorry this is so long x.x Hestia gets a little passionate about the Amazons lol.
![[Image: 345k45w.jpg]](http://i65.tinypic.com/345k45w.jpg)