For once the rumors are not correct. Dear Hestia, what would you have given to know the truth? That Djinni had only been a child? To know that your information had been one of those tales designed to deceive? The black mare has no way of knowing that Djinni cares nothing for this place, at least not yet. For the accusation in her words suggests something else entirely. Why would Hestia’s actions matter to Djinni if the genie cared nothing for the land? What motivation would Djinni have for calling her out on the bumble that had occurred at the beginning of Nerine, if it’s not love of Nerine and her inhabitants? The inhabitants and the land are one after all. The kingdom of Nerine is the residents. The land would just be that, land, without its residents. Just as without the land the residents would not be Nerine. They cannot be separated. Sure, the residents could move to a different land, but then they wouldn’t be Nerine now would it? Just as Nerinian’s are not the Jungle, and the Amazons is not Nerine.
What does she truly make of the golden man? Could she even answer that if asked? For one night they had just been... Could Djinni see and understand the small girl curled up and broken in the darkest corner of her soul? Could she see the small fragile fragments of her heart she clings to for life? She had continued living for many different reasons through the passage of time, those morphed with each turn of the world. Family, kingdom, lover, children. Then she was lost without a reason, resigned to the fast approach of her death. The kingdom gave her a gift, a chance to make up for all the wasted years. This did not change the brokenness, it didn’t steal away the aloneness. The bitterness and hate that was beginning to fester. The kingdom gave her a chance to make up for what she’d not. It was not the reason to continue living, just the reason to finally come to a place in her life where death might bring peace.
Gentle Walter had done that, sparked her reason to live once more that is. They’d been forced together; the rain had sequestered them so that she was obligated to touch someone. It could have been anyone next to her, could have been Djinni, but it hadn’t. It had been Walter. In his gentle ways he pinned her down, compelling her to open up, secrets flooding out of her that she’d not dared to utter to herself. Could Djinni understand how the gift of that night had saved her? Could she know the following day she saw her own lover, the man that in a moment destroyed her reasons for believing in the ability of betterment. He had for a moment destroyed her hope, her love, her grasp on those bloody fragments slipped and she was ready to make the world suffer. She saw Pollock in herself and enjoyed it. For a moment, she thought of becoming all that she hated… dreaded. But it couldn’t completely consume her. Because of Walter. The little girl was strong enough to crawl from her corner, she reached to touch Hestia, for a moment her innocent self connected with her on a level they had not connected on for many decades. And once again she had felt that darkness raise its ugly head on seeing a set of lovers for the first time since her own sordid affair. She smiled for the conquering of that darkness, knowing that her soul is still intact, something she was fearing wasn’t the case anymore. She’d feared that monster, and it hurts to know that it exists inside herself, thus the sadness.
But it can’t overpower, because Walter had given the innocent girl something to grasp other than those gritty fragments she’d clinged to all her life. Not love, not a blazing passion, not some idol, or other idealized and tangible thing. Just something, many things it could be called; but to define it would be to limit and confine it. Then it becomes tangible, something breakable, something that can be tainted or changed. If it becomes something more than something the world could reach it and shatter it as the world does with the rest of her cherished objects… She doesn’t want to meet that woman, the one that has nothing left. So, does she believe it makes her omniscient? No, but she does believe that Walter gave her something beyond her acknowledged small capability of understanding.
Does Hestia trust Djinni? Absolutely not, she will never trust anyone in her life. Though she might enjoy the sharks, maybe they could end her existence? Like a cockroach she seemingly can’t bring death to enter her door. He comes knocking time and again, catching her in the most unexpected situations, yet he slams the door on her just before she can follow him into oblivion every time. Not age, but experience, listening, and observing creates wisdom, age just creates a wealth of it. It’s funny how a land can snare. It will claim all the hearts it can, and then claim more through those hearts it owns. Its reach can become infinite through this. As long as one creature finds room in their heart for the land, others will follow, and the land will continue to live. Even if they despise the land itself. She was able to number herself amongst those. To cold, to wet, to quiet, to bland, animals that should not be called such. But land snares. Always it reaches for more.
But oh, it’s so pleasant, so refreshing, to make a mistake. Being perfect is never fascinating or fun. It’s dry, drab, and predictable. She loves making mistakes, making mischief, and she’s not been allowed to do so in so long. She wryly smiles back, and here I thought that my reputation for the whimsical might have given this stretch of time a little more shock factor. The old hag can’t decide if she is proud of her accomplishments these last months, or if she is dismayed that a kingdom has locked her to itself so soon after her recent escape of the fetters of her lover. Pathetic. She didn’t even realize that she had been suffocating under the manacles of mate and motherhood, until seeing him again.
She tries to not show it, but revulsion can’t be helped on hearing of how easily Naga gave in. That is not the filly/mare of the Amazons that Hestia knew. And just as Fennick lost her, so does Naga and Lagertha in this moment. At least Hestia has a very good reason for leaving, her children. She still listens for any news on them, ever gazing into the distance hoping that one day on that horizon they may be spotted finding their way home. She shakes out her mane clearing her head before looking back to Djinni, the flickering of the phoenix flame in her pupils. Every time she thinks of them it blazes making her skin to tight, and her desire to find them fuels it. The remnants of the darkness that woke in her that day on Nerine’s shore could be seen in her demeanor. Slightly harder, a little colder. Someday, in the meantime she has a kingdom that needs her full attention.
She doesn’t know what she would do without these women. These women that are familiar with time, the old world, and the new world. She nods in acknowledgement of the others pointed statement. She didn’t expect Scorch, she didn’t expect Heartfire, she didn’t expect DJinni, she thought she had been on her own in a kingdom of foals. She’d been scared. Now with each passing day she sees the hidden strength coming out, just waiting to be tapped and formed and used. Let me know should you’re standing ever change. She won’t ask for more than they are willing to give. The black mare hopes for and so far has received, brutal candor from those she has met.
She looks out the ocean once more, contemplating. What would it take to find them? How involved do you wish to be here, while you stay? She expects totally loyalty from the residents, but from the immortals among them, loyalty doesn’t even cross her mind. Immortals can’t be shackled to one place. Too much happens, time passes, shifts, and changes. She already knows that while she plans on fulfilling her role as queen for as long as she can; she will not be queen forever, even should she live that long. You just can’t ask that of immortals.
HESTIA
The devil whispered in my ear, you’ll never survive the storm
I whispered back, I am the storm
![[Image: 345k45w.jpg]](http://i65.tinypic.com/345k45w.jpg)