||Meeting a Queen|| {Hestia}

[Hestia]

The sea in all its beauty and strength could be seen as a safety net, though the threat and power behind it is just as real. It’s in strength that they find safety, and power that they can find beauty. A hypnotic combination ready to be wielded in the deadliest of ways. The storms come and they suck Hestia into them surrounding her, threatening her, testing her until she is sure that she will break. And every time she comes close, every time she is about to waver someone comes. Her people, they come to her and support her. The black queen couldn’t be more grateful for this.

She may never be completely happy in Nerine, it is hard to do when the world you’ve known for over a century, the kingdom you were born into, the people that you’ve known through that time are completely gone. Obliterated from existance every trace of all that you knew just gone. It makes it hard to be happy with the different place. Even if Nerine grows on her, and even if she grows to like and love the salty shores of this haven. There will always be a piece missing. A slight twinge that will have her switching her tail absentmindedly trying to rid herself of that irritating ache that will never disappear completely.

Well I’m a bit biased, but I do hope that you choose to call Nerine home for the rest of your life; her lip twitches in humor. Her words are not snarky, but gentle even if Hestia isn’t all that expressive. Her tail switches at an annoying twitch in her hip lazily in its luster. It’s amazing how Nerine can transform a creature honestly. She used to be all wiry muscle and tight athletic skin, almost masculine. Then she started to age and her coat began to dull, her muscles became stringy. Her veins started to pop from her skin that hang loose from her body, ugly as her form began to creak and groan under the loss of her immortality. Arthritis and all the groans of old age giving her reason to complain.

After receiving immortality again, after spending time in Nerine; her body is supple, her muscles, while still strong, are not defined as they used to be. Sloping curves of a bright and soft coat protect her from the cold harsh winds of Nerinian winters. The pains of age dissipating her skin tight to her form once more. She is strong, but there is a womanliness that she’d lacked in her jungle and valley homes. Here they are well fed and truly are safe. Predators have not roamed the plains here since she’d risen to power, and she isn’t aware if they ever have. Its… pleasant.

HESTIA

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