The old hag is growing desperate. Her patience wearing thin. She can not continue to wait. She itches to make a move, to force an action. Hestia is doing everything in her power to keep her kingdom afloat and now that there is time to breath, there is also time to think on her children. They are a nagging thought in the back of her mind all day. Never has she forgotten them, but the itch, the urge to find them has driven her work for the kingdom. It has been distracted and used until she stops mid-step to sleep from pure exhaustion. It had been useful, but each day she spends trying to distract herself from the thoughts that could drive her to insanity. The closer she gets to succumbing to that insanity. Even the stupid voice, a residual effect from being yanked from the afterworld, grows uncomfortably silent. All its snarky comments held back, left to tap on the door to her mind waiting for her to stop ignoring it.
She’s almost completely forgotten about it, she’s been so busy. So much effort put into quelling her thoughts of her children. She’s in the densest part of the forest, where squeezing between saplings can prove to be dangerous. She doesn’t know where she is going, she doesn’t exactly have a direction in mind. Just an urge to wander. Hestia’s learned to ignore most of these urges, but every so often she must, even if its just a few hours. She spends that time believing that she will never return to the kingdom, pretending that she once again alone with Beqanna speaking as she would to an old friend. These are times that she wishes no one to see her but loves to indulge in whenever possible. The black mare has always been a strange creature, and now with her ties to the kingdom she feels the strangeness that is her.
Scowling, calculating, the black hag racks her brain for ways to find her children. When a soul disappears from Beqanna most do not question it. It is just assumed that they will return one day. However, her children, they did not disappear. Her tail whips wildly against her hind quarters, no thought to be careful of the surrounding brush. Long silky strands snag on one such bush. She discovers this when she tries to move forward but finds she can’t. A snarl curls her lips, her green eyes leaking the venom she keeps tucked away during diplomatic meetings.
Annoyed her flames flare out from her consuming the bush in its hunger. She smothers them and the ember in her eyes, leaving only the damage done for evidence. She doesn’t move on though, not so easy at this moment. Looking to the bush that is no more, watching as it withers and cowers in fear and pain. No… it does none of that, it has no reaction, there is no sense of loss within herself. She is brought back to reality, her face icing over once more. This is not Beqanna, her children are not here. She’s indulged in her fantasies enough for the day. Yet, the desire is not quenched, there is a new desperation in her building to find those she loves.
.
HESTIA
The devil whispered in my ear, you’ll never survive the storm
I whispered back, I am the storm
@[Caw] Let me know if you need me to change anything.