Moonspear You make me feel

forward dated to just past hydra's heat!!!

 

The days past had blended and blurred into one another until they bled into one large inkblot. The events of them would surely lead to what it had the year prior, and Hydra celebrated the thought of it alone for now. As it stood, she could not be sure; it was much too soon to know. But she held onto the idea that her womb would be swift to quicken with the seed of her husband—more little ones to love with every ounce of her being. 

So, the spring in her gait was not at all imagined as she traveled. There was a lightness to her step rarely seen as she moved through The Netherwood. A call came, not from a voice she recognized, and Hydra moved to meet the voice given her proximity. All was well up until Hydra caught sight of the stranger from where she stood—

Blackface. From here, Hydra could not note the color of the eyes. They held themselves in a way that was far from threatening, though Hydra was no fool and would not be deceived. All lightness was gone in a devastating blink, much like the way a star will wink out of existence. Hydra prowled downward, pantherian and savage in demeanor and carrying the look of death upon her. There would be much to think on later, but for now she could only think of the swiftest way to dispatch the wretch upon her doorstep. None of this was revealed upon her stoic features, though her eyes had already assessed the exhaustion the other wore and imperceptibly searched for more even still. 

The closer she became, though, the more Hydra could see. A complete and utter lack of scars upon her, for one thing. That the other, by scent, was clearly not older—more like they were around the same age, with that. And then, the blue eyes. Not yellow, as Vengeance had described (the eyes of her children, though Hydra imagined the mother with much the same shade as their own). 

She would not leave it to question. Hydra would know, and now. Who are you? she drawled, voice dark as she regarded the other—Hydra stood before her as a woman who knew, and would use, her own power... if the answer she received was less than satisfactory. Already her weight was squared, and though she stood before the woman looking like the very picture of authority, of a Queen, her defenses were set in preparation of the other being who Hydra had initially suspected. 

If that was the case, she certainly would not be here to talk. But the discrepancies were enough that Hydra would listen, for now, unless she breathed that wretched name. Would fortune favor her so?