09-07-2016, 04:21 AM
Hestia looks for her sisters. She is furious, with them, with the Valley, with the Chamber, with Jadis, with Fennick, with her son, her daughter, Pollock. She is raging mad, and ready to extract justice on them all. Not with war, not with blood, no there had been enough of that. The sisters needed to find their pride again, she needed to show them the true meaning of sisterhood once more. Her son, her daughter, they would have to live without her, they were no longer hers. Fennick, should he show his face… she pauses here a soft spot for the once king joining with the pain, and abandonment she feels from him. She shakes it off, she wouldn’t know what to do with/to him if he ever came back to her. Pollock… she could outlive him still, that would be vengeance enough, and the kingdoms, well it seemed that Beqanna had punished them for her.
Confident with renewed purpose and vigor she makes her way through the meadow picking through each group searching for the familiar scent of Amazonian jungle still clinging to the sisters. It takes her a while, but she does find them. Two of them, vomit rises in her throat, scorning the sisters and their weakness. What queens had reigned and feigned caring all these years to make them so soft. She remembered the days when they sacrificed to the jungle, when they asked the jungle for security, when blood was spilled amongst themselves to bring strength from the jungle. It would give only when they gave, it would protect only when they protected. The earth no longer swayed at her feet, the grasses no longer separated for her, kissing and greeting her with loving arms. Beqanna no longer welcomed her, even as she had been born a part of Beqanna, the land shunned her.
She does not smile, she does not frown, her eyes gleam intensely, the lush green living on in them. Even if the Jungle didn’t exist any longer, the amazons still existed in her soul. Hello sisters, Now she smiles cruel, with a cold dagger hidden in her (metaphorical) hand. She looks to Naga wondering if she would remember, she had watched the foal grow, she had watched her learn to control her tongue, and now she was watching her learn to take responsibility. She turns her attention to Nayl, a glimmer of a memory faint and distant, had she seen the sister before? Or was it a mother? A relative of some sort? Hestia isn’t sure. In any case she had been prompt to show. Thank you for coming so quickly. I’m Hestia by the way. Where are the cowards? Are they tucked somewhere in the dark? Are they waiting for mommy to come and find them? Nurse their wounds and tell them everything is going to be okay? Her anger broils some of it frothing over cold and sharp with her venom. She doesn’t yell, she doesn’t let her voice tense, she lets her words do the cutting.
She is in control once more, her emotions do not lead her, they follow her and prickle her into real action. She won’t sit back idly this time; she won’t give up on them again. Someone else could lead, but she would make them remember the truth of why the women existed in the first place. She looks back to Naga a questioning look in her eye. Who was the leader? Who would begin the work? She expects Naga to, but who knows maybe the sisters squabble for meager things such as power as well these days.
Confident with renewed purpose and vigor she makes her way through the meadow picking through each group searching for the familiar scent of Amazonian jungle still clinging to the sisters. It takes her a while, but she does find them. Two of them, vomit rises in her throat, scorning the sisters and their weakness. What queens had reigned and feigned caring all these years to make them so soft. She remembered the days when they sacrificed to the jungle, when they asked the jungle for security, when blood was spilled amongst themselves to bring strength from the jungle. It would give only when they gave, it would protect only when they protected. The earth no longer swayed at her feet, the grasses no longer separated for her, kissing and greeting her with loving arms. Beqanna no longer welcomed her, even as she had been born a part of Beqanna, the land shunned her.
She does not smile, she does not frown, her eyes gleam intensely, the lush green living on in them. Even if the Jungle didn’t exist any longer, the amazons still existed in her soul. Hello sisters, Now she smiles cruel, with a cold dagger hidden in her (metaphorical) hand. She looks to Naga wondering if she would remember, she had watched the foal grow, she had watched her learn to control her tongue, and now she was watching her learn to take responsibility. She turns her attention to Nayl, a glimmer of a memory faint and distant, had she seen the sister before? Or was it a mother? A relative of some sort? Hestia isn’t sure. In any case she had been prompt to show. Thank you for coming so quickly. I’m Hestia by the way. Where are the cowards? Are they tucked somewhere in the dark? Are they waiting for mommy to come and find them? Nurse their wounds and tell them everything is going to be okay? Her anger broils some of it frothing over cold and sharp with her venom. She doesn’t yell, she doesn’t let her voice tense, she lets her words do the cutting.
She is in control once more, her emotions do not lead her, they follow her and prickle her into real action. She won’t sit back idly this time; she won’t give up on them again. Someone else could lead, but she would make them remember the truth of why the women existed in the first place. She looks back to Naga a questioning look in her eye. Who was the leader? Who would begin the work? She expects Naga to, but who knows maybe the sisters squabble for meager things such as power as well these days.
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