Her chest expands as she tries to taste the air around him, fresh with pine and something else she can’t catch unless she gets closer. She won’t lower her pride that much. Not even for that delectable scent. Still the little she picks up etches itself into her memory associated with the soft eyes that should be stormy. They are rhythmic, they remind her of the ocean, but their color isn’t the color of ocean or storm, but somewhere in-between yet no, they have a purple hue that speaks of the morning skies. A beautiful oxymoron that speaks of both chaos and peace. She can’t stop looking at them, and his scent… its hypnotic a deadly weapon formed exactly to fit her weakness.
She bares her teeth, he’s pushing his luck, and his demands are more than she believes she can take. She is raw, and sensitive, wanting to claw her way from her skin and drift back into detached control once more. At this moment she does not want to be touched by anyone, not even this peculiar male. She feels his low rumble against her skin, a fire pelting her hide on the inside ready to burst through at any moment. Then he does it, does it faster than she can recognize what is going on. He is there wrapped around her cradling her, melding her form to his. She can define that scent now, a thick musk spicy in its undertones but sweet in its over layer. A heady mix with the pine from the forest. It lulls her, he lulls her. Between shock and longing she can’t find the will to move.
The will to fight him off has disappeared from her, they stand there for a moment. She’s not relaxed, stiff in her stance, fighting within herself for the way to control. To remember who she is, and why she does not participate in dalliances such as these. She’s let this go to far, the black queen can’t risk being seen as weak, she cannot afford to trust. It’s with this thought that she finds the ability to steel herself against the onslaught of his affection. Hestia can’t bring herself to move just yet, but slowly she’s finding her footing. This talk in her head isn’t what snaps her back to reality. It’s him, his words, they shatter the moment even as her mind whispers that he is falling deeper into it.
No, this would not be good for either of them should they indulge in such frivolous pursuits. There is only one way this could end for them. She snaps her teeth at the thick of his neck, knowing it would not truly harm him. A mouthful of hardened muscle and scars soak her tongue in his flavor. I don’t need anyone to - and the next words have spittle flying from her lips - to protect me. The creatures warned her, she must be careful with her temper. Right now would be a terrible time to be born anew. Right now she can not, and I mean CANNOT be seen as weak.
Suspicion drives her forward. Who sent you? Was it Krone? Hestia reels with the implications, any number of people could desire to dethrone her. Right now would be the perfect time to do so. Right now she has not yet come to her prime, right now the people do not fully trust her. She is in a position of teetering on the edge of either a long and prosperous reign or a short and terrible demise. They look to her with hope, cautious in their following. They do not do so with blind faith. Not yet. She is still earning that. And he continues to try with her, continues to blindly seek her out, even after all her warnings. He pushes on, testing her, daring her. Who could know her weakness?
She cannot bring herself to burn him to ash, her soul can’t take another betrayal. They’ve only just met; how could this be a betrayal? No, it isn’t, she’d wait and see. Watch him from a distance, have her people report to her on his goings on. Hestia spits out the words, testing him, leave me. The queen in her rears its head, demanding, she will not be one to flee. Hestia does not flee. No, she commands, and now her voice carries that command. Cold and hard cutting off the emotion that had just been pouring through her just moments ago. No one should stir her this way, she cannot allow it.
She spends the rest of the day standing there at the oceans edge, contemplating, turning her mind to her work. Her work that she would throw herself into, body and soul until she is exhausted enough to not know one day from the next. Until she is susceptible to a demon that will take her mind and bring itself into this world. A storm approaches Nerine, and she will lead them into it, She will become the storm if she must.
HESTIA
The devil whispered in my ear, you’ll never survive the storm
I whispered back, I am the storm
OOC: okay seriously don't know where this came from... :|
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