Under the old oak tree [GrimDark]

[Hestia]

sweet as sugar, hard as ice.
if you hurt me once, i'll kill you twice.

Even in death she never made it to the ocean. In fact, it’s the one place she could swear she had never been. There is just something about it, something final and foreboding that keeps her from crossing the land to those sandy beaches filled with corpses. Even when tethered to Pollock her ghostly form would stand at the cliffs edge glowering down at him as he talked to himself, his victims, or what other insane nonsense he was up too. Nerine’s beaches couldn’t quite count as she had left them as quickly as possible when she once more awoke from the magical slumber that overcame her every so often.

She shudders and she gazes down at the pool of glass beneath her hooves. The image of her rotting flesh falling from the shattered skull is the only thing she can see in the depths of the wet glass. Even as she came back a form of perfection; her body whole except for her beloved’s scar claiming her shoulder. She would never be able to erase the horrors of that ghostly form. Windpipes exposed and scraped raw, fractures of bone missing and the cavity of her skull dark and gaping from her eye socket. One eye and only half a maw; as jealous as Pollock had been of her he couldn’t take away the one thing she clung to. Life.

What a cruel joke, the bitter winds cackle in her ears. She had everything at one point. A moment of perfection, if you will. Now though, now, what did she have? Life seemed empty. She knows no one, accepts nothing. Wanders the world at her leisure giving nothing in return. Life at this time is pointless and it’s in this state that she looks back at the black delicate features with disgust. Before she had purpose, a sense of belonging and home. For now the world is pointless. Even as hope glimmers that this moment will pass, the voice scrapes in her ears once more. You know that is not true. Life has rejected you. The slimy words coat her soul; steeling her against the idea. Life may be done with her, but she isn’t done with life.

Pursing her lips in resolve she looks up from the pool finally taking notice of her surroundings. The other creatures are slowly meandering to their respective homes leaving her alone in the dusky twilight of the day teetering on its plunge into night.

Hestia

@[Grimdark]