[private] I sold my soul for this [Djinni]

[Hestia]

Hestia’s knows of Djinni, knows that she had been a part of the Deserts for sometime before the world went to shit. Beyond that though, they are strangers. Part of her wonders if the genie has been avoiding her, as she didn’t see her at the meeting, nor did she have much luck in tracking her down to become acquainted with Nerine’s mage. Nerine seems to be having trouble keeping a ruler and keeping structure in its land since the first day it was created. They are quiet, standing together for a bit of time not doing much of anything other than looking to the sea. Hestia wondering what it is that makes the mare cold towards her. Or if she has just become accustomed to the poking, prodding, and general fuzzy behavior most have developed towards her in the time since she announced her ascension. Whatever the case Djinni breaks the silence, and her words hold a tone meant to dissect Hestia.

The black mare can’t help but laugh, what a relief, someone who isn’t afraid to tell her how it is. She’s been waiting for this question. She thought it would come up in the meeting, thought that the general agreement would be that she isn’t fit since she had previously slipped into the shadows. Thought that someone would say something, start a riot or witch hunt, anything really that would tell her that they still had no wish of her help. Yet here she stands, uncontested, and while it’s a relief, she’s spent so much time having to claw her way around for general respect or acknowledgement, that it has been almost stressful having no one try to tear her down.

The laughter makes her sides hurt, she can’t help it, she is not trying to offend Djinni in the least, its just so much better when they don’t just bow and lay all you ask for at your feet. She’d left her mothers side for just that reason, spent so much time wandering trying to escape the name that if used, would have made her life full of clouds and rainbows. She’d set out to make her own name, and here she is, and she’s done just that. So has she earned the bowing? Sure, but she also knows her mistakes, and still enjoys it when someone points them out every once in in a while. I think I’ve already succeeded at that, her words are wry and full of humor when she turns her emerald eyes to look at the mare beside her. She’s flashy, and maybe she does this to impress, but Hestia has seen to much for her to have an assumption on how another horse is supposed to look.

Are you able to catch me up on all that has happened since? The black mare wonders if Djinni could possibly have any room to judge? Why hadn’t she gone and tried to reestablish the Deserts? Wasn’t that her original home? Without knowing the full extent of her history, Hestia doesn’t try to point any fingers. She knows she was wrong for leaving the scared group of mares, even if they had so adamantly made it clear that she was only welcome because the queen remembered her.

Though Hestia does wonder, if Djinni had been such a large part of the Nerine all this time then why is it laying lifeless below their feet? But she says nothing. She knows the feeling of abandonment, knows the sharp sting it leaves when someone deems you no longer worthy. She may have done this to Nerine. It may not justify those actions, but the Amazonian women had done so to her first. She remembers the day the spy caste had been disassembled, she’d been on a mission at the time, and when she returned to report, the new queen had snubbed her nose. Deemed Hestia not a sister and refused to acknowledge her service to the Jungle, even as she still had the flower and tattoos. The girl had tried to remove them from Hestia’s body that day, vehement in her hatred of all who’d ‘left’ the Jungle. Her’s would not come off though, to engrained in the sisterhood, her blood refused to be parted from its home. Queen for a mother, queen for a sister, fifty years of service. The child couldn’t take that from her. Still she refused to allow Hestia into a different rank, the rest of the women followed their queens lead forgetting about the caste so freshly decimated, and her along with it. Thus Hestia understands Djinni’s bitterness over the leaders abandoning the group.

The black mare says nothing other to acknowledge her mistake, and hopefully communicate to Djinni that yes, this time is going to be different. Her green eyes look into the genies waiting for her to decide if Hestia has done enough in these few months to warrant a chance to make things right. To right the past and bring this new generation out of the squabbles and bitterness that festered so long in the Jungle that it made those sisters unable to decide anything for themselves.

HESTIA

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