Queen Hild
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*Hild was glad that her granddaughters paid her a visit at the penthouse. She had the best setting for movie night* So, which genre? Horror?!? *grins* @zarinabeliala @solananova
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The soft hum of jazz floated through the velvet-laced air, brushing gently against golden sconces and low-lit chandeliers. Shadows danced sensually across the mahogany walls of SugarFusion Speakeasy, a sanctuary tucked away for those who understood the true language of indulgence.
The heavy double doors opened without urgency—yet the moment she stepped through, the atmosphere shifted.
Queen Hild had arrived.
Draped in a shimmering gown the color of crushed starlight, her white curls cascading like liquid moonlight over her shoulders, she moved with an effortless confidence that demanded neither introduction nor permission. The red star etched into her forehead glowed softly under the dim lights, a silent signature of her chaotic power—and divine elegance.
She had grown bored of the penthouse. Luxurious, yes. But isolation had begun to weigh on her. More importantly, she had grown weary of navigating the tension that came with avoiding him. Tonight, she wanted something else—something only her bloodline could deliver: curated pleasure in the form of handcrafted delight.
As her heels clicked across the marbled floor and into the heart of the speakeasy, heads turned. Conversations paused. The energy stirred.
Desire.
Curiosity.
Jealousy.
Worship.
She was aware of it all. She always was. But she wasn’t here to be worshipped tonight.
She was here to relax.
Behind the gleaming bar, Noloty—radiant and composed—chuckled under her breath as she noticed the ripple her mother’s arrival created. She didn’t need to be told. Queen Hild’s tastes were… infamous. And Noloty knew exactly how to honor them.
She stepped forward with a glass of glowing amethyst liquid—the Elysian Bloom. A sensual cocktail infused with rare blossoms, a touch of forbidden nectar, and just enough bite to make the tongue hum. It was more than a drink. It was a ceremony.
“Mother,” Noloty said with a knowing smirk, offering the glass like a gift to a goddess. “I trust this speaks to your… refined palate.”
Queen Hild accepted the glass, raised a single silver brow, and took a slow sip. The flavor bloomed instantly—floral, decadent, a bit wicked. Her lips curved into a rare, pleased smile.
“Perfect,” she said. Approval given.
Soon, she was seated in the VIP alcove, reclining like the queen she was, one leg draped over the other. The Elysian Bloom shimmered in her hand as a sultry saxophone crooned from the stage. The music swirled like smoke. The room pulsed with low, luxurious energy.
And for once—Queen Hild allowed herself to just be.
A night of indulgence.
No demands.
No masks.
Just jazz, drink, and the quiet power of a woman who knew exactly who she was.
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*Enjoys sipping her red wine and is lost in her thoughts* So, Lord Satan has been here for a while…*she couldn’t help but chuckle, demonically in a subte way* This should be interesting!
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*Sits by the pool waiting for her drink*
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Such a cute little town
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Scene: Akihabara Shopping District | Late Afternoon | Queen Hild, Solana & Zarina
The sun hung low, casting a soft amber glow across the buzzing district. Neon signs flickered to life overhead, and the scent of sweets and sizzling street food drifted through the air.
Queen Hild walked with effortless grace, her heels clicking in rhythm with the twins’ laughter. Between them, shopping bags swung like trophies—designer, indie, even a few impulse purchases from the cute gothic accessory shop that made Zarina gasp and Solana smirk.
They were a striking trio—one that turned heads and stopped conversations in midair. Hild’s white hair shimmered like a banner of command, while her granddaughters flanked her, youthful and radiant in their matching rebellious flair.
Zarina nudged Solana with her elbow. “Still can’t believe you bought those spiked earrings.”
Solana shrugged, her smirk playful. “They match Grandma’s vibe.”
Hild raised an eyebrow with feigned offense, “Spiked is such a crude word. I prefer… ‘sharpened elegance.’”
The girls burst out laughing.
The moment was light. Rare. The kind of memory that stayed with you long after the noise of the day faded.
And yet… she felt him.
The Almighty.
Not close, not intrusive—but present. Watching, perhaps. Always watching.
She didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even pause.
Let him look.
Let him witness a version of her he no longer owned.
The day was for her granddaughters—and nothing and no one would disrupt that.
As the sky shifted into shades of rose and deepening blue, they strolled toward the edge of the district, where the glowing sign of a bus stop flickered in the distance.
“Alright, you two,” Hild said smoothly, handing each of them a bottled tea from the last boutique. “One more hug and then go pretend to be responsible students again.”
Zarina rolled her eyes. “Ugh, rude.”
Solana laughed, “We’re responsible enough for today.”
Hild leaned in, allowing a rare softness to curve her lips. “You were perfect.”
With a final round of hugs, the twins boarded the bus—still smiling, still buzzing from the day.
Queen Hild watched them go, expression unreadable as the vehicle pulled away into the dusk.
Only then did she glance sideways—just briefly.
> Let him keep watching.
And with that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the night crowd—shopping bags in hand, power undiminished.
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Scene: Central Park–Style Fountain, Akihabara City | Wednesday Afternoon | Queen Hild & The Twins
The air was warm with the hum of early summer. Sunlight danced off the surface of the grand fountain at the park’s center—majestic, reminiscent of the famed one in New York. Streams of water arched gracefully, and pigeons flitted between tourists and schoolchildren. A peaceful setting.
That peace shattered with a ripple of energy—unseen by most, but undeniable to those who knew.
Queen Hild had arrived.
Her tall figure emerged at the far edge of the park, each stride echoing confidence. Long white hair shimmered like moonlight against her dark skin. Her violet eyes, framed by those signature red star markings, gleamed with a subtle warning. And her aura? Unmistakably divine—and deadly.
Pedestrians turned.
Jaws dropped.
A cyclist turned too sharply trying to get a second look—and crashed into a bush.
She paid them no mind.
Because she felt it again.
That presence. That celestial pulse—quiet but commanding.
Her gaze shifted slightly and landed beneath a tall tree where a bench sat tucked in shadow. And there he was.
The Almighty.
He sat in stillness, as if the world didn’t dare disturb him. Navy-blue semi-casual suit, crisp white shirt, silver hair that caught the light just so. Effortlessly composed. Irritatingly attractive.
Her lips twitched. Of course, he looked good.
She didn’t stop. She didn’t speak. But her message rippled across the space between them—telepathic and sharp as a blade.
> “Don’t even try it.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But she felt his amusement. That infuriating calm.
Hild’s heels clicked louder as she moved past the bench, her posture straightening, stride lengthening—not for his benefit, no… but maybe just enough to say:
> “This was once yours. Now watch me walk away from it.”
At the fountain, Zarina and Solana stood waiting, their school uniforms polished with their usual gothic flair. The light breeze teased the ends of their purple-blonde hair as they turned toward her.
The moment Hild reached them, the tension melted away.
“Shall we?” she said with a faint smile, her tone cool but laced with something warm only they could detect.
Solana and Zarina exchanged a subtle glance—yes, they had felt that too.
But this afternoon belonged to them.
No history.
No drama.
Just the three of them… and a city full of stores waiting to be conquered.
And with that, the trio strolled off toward the shopping district—unbothered, unbent, and absolutely unstoppable.
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[Scene: Queen Hild’s Penthouse | Wednesday, Late Morning]
The penthouse was silent, save for the faint hum of the city below. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, gilding the dark marble floors and brushing across the velvet furnishings like a golden whisper.
Queen Hild stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of her obsidian jacket, every movement calculated, elegant—lethal, even in leisure.
She paused.
Her purple eyes narrowed faintly, her gaze catching her own reflection… yet it wasn’t herself she saw.
Gentoka.
She remembered the moment clearly—his aura, sharp and hesitant, brushing the edges of her awareness that night at the karaoke lounge. The same boy she’d once struck down in war. A boy who had grown into a man tempered by restraint. He had felt her presence, just as she had felt his.
And he had left.
How… amusing.
But also—she had to admit—intelligent.
A direct encounter would have been complicated. Risky. Messy.
She respected the choice. For all his caution, Gentoka had acted with wisdom. A rare thing in a bloodline so haunted by pride.
As she clasped a necklace around her neck, her expression darkened—just slightly.
Noloty.
The name rang in her mind like a bell echoing down a corridor she rarely visited. Forgiven by the clan, yes… but was it truly sincere? Hild often wondered. After all, Noloty was hers—flesh, blood, and an all-too-familiar face. A constant reminder of the very woman who had hurt one of their own.
Forgiveness? Or just tolerance hidden under diplomacy and strained smiles?
She pulled on her gloves.
Emotions.
Such a fragile, unquantifiable thing humans clung to so desperately. She had yet to understand them, let alone acknowledge them. That was why she didn’t flinch when Gentoka approached. Didn’t speak. Didn’t pursue.
Still, she felt… something.
Not quite guilt.
Not quite sorrow.
But she did love Noloty. And the granddaughters—Zarina and Solana—they were the only light in this shadowed chapter of her existence. Her reason for descending to the earthly plane. Her anchors.
And then there was him.
The Almighty.
Just the thought of him sent a faint shiver down her spine—how irritating.
And yet… gods above, he had looked magnificent that night. That casual look, that silvered hair, that calm, commanding presence—he wore divinity like silk and steel.
She rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror, lips curving into a smirk.
No. She wasn’t here for him. She didn’t have the luxury—or the interest—for old flames and ancient regrets.
She was here for her granddaughters. Only them.
With one last glance at her reflection, Queen Hild turned on her heel and walked toward the elevator. The city awaited—and her granddaughters were expecting her for a shopping excursion.
Let the mortals marvel.
Let the gods wonder.
For today, Queen Hild walked not as a warrior or a threat…
…but as a grandmother in heels.
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The sky was painted in a soft blend of amber and rose, casting a warm glow across the sprawling city below. From the floor-to-ceiling windows of her penthouse suite, Queen Hild stood like a vision carved from starlight and danger. The glass in her hand was no ordinary vessel—it was an intricately wrought goblet, dark and gleaming, with celestial etchings that shimmered when tilted just right.
The wine within was older than most kingdoms. Deep. Rich. Bloody.
She swirled it lazily, her long white hair cascading like moonlight down her back, the faint glint of her red demonic star-markings catching the window’s reflection. Her gaze, though cast outward, was elsewhere—sharp, focused. Not on the skyline.
But on the shift in the air.
She felt him.
That unmistakable divine echo. Clean. Measured. Overbearingly paternal.
“Hmm,” she mused aloud, her voice velvet with a blade’s edge. “So… he does care enough to manifest.”
The smirk that played on her lips wasn’t warm. It was amused. Almost mocking.
She brought the goblet to her lips, sipping slowly, savoring the flavor as her eyes narrowed with piercing elegance.
“Grandfather mode activated,” she muttered with a hint of sarcasm, the term tasting as foreign on her tongue as the humility it implied. “How quaint.”
He was nearby. She didn’t need to see him to know. His aura was always… unapologetically radiant. It buzzed like an over-polished blade in her otherwise perfect frequency.
It wasn’t fear that stirred in her chest—Hild had long since conquered such things. It was curiosity.
She turned from the window, long robes whispering against the marble floor as she walked with the kind of grace only born of power and millennia. Her suite was a sanctuary of decadence—plush silks, dark woods, and flickering candles dancing to music only she could hear.
“Here to watch me, are you?” she said aloud, though to no one present. “As if I’d waste my time poisoning the pastries.”
She paused, finishing her wine.
“No… you’re here for them.”
The goblet floated from her hand and hovered midair before settling on its stand.
“Such devotion,” she purred. “Almost endearing.”
And yet, something beneath her voice hinted at tension. Not resentment—but awareness. He hadn’t come to greet her. Not directly. He had chosen the human streets, the bakery… the girls.
That stung more than she cared to admit.
With a flick of her wrist, the curtains pulled shut, shadows embracing the room once more.
Queen Hild was many things. But surprised? Never.
If He thought He could watch quietly from afar…
She would make certain He felt seen.
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*Has a wicked grin on her face noticing how staff and customers alike keep staring at her* I don’t bite…yet!
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Above the City, Between Dimensions
The skyline glittered like shattered stardust.
From the floor-to-ceiling windows of her grand penthouse, Queen Hild stood with a crystal goblet of wine in hand, its contents the color of dark rubies—rich, ancient, and undoubtedly expensive. The city below hummed in ignorant peace, completely unaware that the very fabric of dimensions was rippling with tension.
She sipped.
Slowly. Luxuriously.
And smiled.
Oh, she felt it—the subtle fractures in the realms, the divine reverberations echoing through reality. The Concordance of Blessings, she would’ve called it in another era. The Almighty was at work. She could sense His holy fingerprints brushing across the threads of Helena’s bloodline. Power swelling. Shields rising. A heavenly choir of reassurances draped across Terra.
How precious.
Another sip. This one lingered on her tongue.
She laughed softly, a melodic sound laced with something older, darker.
“Such divine theatrics…”
The thought crossed her mind—a tempting one. To aid Satan. To tip the scale just enough to throw the mortals into chaos. Oh, how glorious it would be to reignite terror across their fragile little cities. To unleash ancient horrors through his hand, then sit back and sip from her chalice as the world screamed.
Her grin widened, a spark of wicked glee in her crimson gaze.
But then…
Her mind shifted.
Zarina. Solana.
Her granddaughters.
The softness of their eyes. The fire in their voices. The unpredictable way they had made her feel something she had spent eons burying.
Connected.
And then, Noloty. Her daughter. Her opposite. Her tether. The one she had once tried to steal away from the world, and now… was trying to understand.
She walked slowly toward the glass, the glow of the city wrapping around her figure like a throne of light and shadow. Her silhouette radiated regal power and ancient danger—but her eyes, for once, held restraint.
“No… not this time.”
Her fingers traced the rim of her wineglass.
“Satan can claw at the heavens without me. He’s powerful enough. Foolish enough, too.”
She raised her glass, as though toasting the chaos she chose to ignore.
“I’m not here to hunt Helena… or help her disappear.”
She turned, the hem of her gown whispering across marble floors as she walked back toward her velvet settee.
“I’m here for them. For my blood. My legacy.”
Zarina’s laughter echoed in her memory. Solana’s gaze—intelligent and defiant—lingered behind her eyelids. Hild closed her eyes for a brief moment, allowing herself to feel something dangerously close to sentiment.
One day… maybe. One day she might unleash hell again.
But not today.
Today, she would sip her wine.
Watch the world turn.
And choose family over fire.
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The city street buzzed with its usual rhythm—laughter, footsteps, the clinking of coffee cups—but something shifted when *she* appeared.
Queen Hild stood just across from SugarSweet Bakery, one heel angled forward, head tilted ever so slightly, a confident grin playing on her lips. Her crop-top jacket fluttered just enough in the breeze to reveal the low-cut edge of her blouse, the lacing of her v-neck like a whisper of her old ways. Gothic glamour met urban chic. Her long white hair cascaded freely down her back, with intricate braids woven through like silver threads of royalty and rebellion.
The street might’ve been crowded, but the air parted for her.
She knew the line—the invisible boundary. The last time she crossed it, her presence cracked glass. Ten minutes, and the ward had begun to reject her. But not today.
As she took her first step across the midpoint, a sting ignited across her collarbones—a warning. But the elixir pulsed in her blood like cool silver, easing the burn to a manageable hum. She exhaled slowly, letting it pass. Not one step faltered.
She could feel them.
Jean. Watching from the heavens.
Michael. Unmoving atop his perch.
Rika. Tense at the register, thumb likely near the panic button.
Even those cloaked in shadows—doubt and judgment hung in the air thicker than incense.
But she didn’t care. Let them watch.
She walked into the bakery like she owned the realm and every secret within it.
Then, in the courtyard, her gaze landed—first on Lilith, casually manning the station like a queen with her own domain. Hild offered her a sly smile of recognition—acknowledgment without challenge.
But then… she saw them.
Two teenage girls, side by side in front of a table set under flowering vines. One with dark skin and fierce, uncertain eyes. The other with ivory skin and a flicker of curiosity behind her reserved posture. Hair like stardust and twilight. Matching amethyst eyes.
Solana. Zarina.
Her heart—hardened by centuries, betrayal, conquest—lurched.
Across from them stood Noloty. No apron, no facade. Just her. Raw, beautiful, impenetrable.
Hild froze mid-step.
The courtyard, though full, fell silent to her senses.
She held two small boutique bags in her hands—gifts, not offerings. Not bribes. Something simple. A gesture.
Their eyes met—hers and Noloty’s.
And in a breath, without a word, Noloty gave the faintest of nods.
Permission.
Hild moved again. Slower this time. Measured.
She reached the girls and gently placed the bags at their feet. For a moment, she hesitated again—then, as if pulled by gravity she never knew she still possessed, she leaned in and embraced them.
Not tightly. Not too long.
But fully.
Completely.
And in that moment, the universe didn’t explode.
It paused—like even time had the decency to let this happen. @promiscuous @solananova @zarinabeliala
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There was a certain rhythm to Akihabara’s chaos that Hild found… delightful. A kind of choreographed frenzy where neon lights bled into the night sky and the pulse of mortal life surged like a symphony of vanity and hunger. She walked through it like a storm in heels—deliberate, unapologetic, and lethal.
Yes, she saw the looks. She always saw the looks.
A man had nearly dropped his drink. Another twisted his neck so sharply she half expected a chiropractor to pop out of a vending machine. One bold woman bit her lower lip and made no effort to hide her admiration. Hild didn’t need magic to be worshiped—it came naturally.
But what truly made her smirk was Noloty.
Her daughter walked beside her like a flame refusing to be outshined. Casual. Unbothered. That halter top and ripped jeans combo wasn’t exactly “royal wear,” but the way Noloty carried herself turned it into something damn near regal. Even with her hair pulled back, there was an elegance to her stride that no mortal could imitate.
That’s my girl.
When they reached the hotel, Hild’s expression faltered—just briefly. Her gaze flicked up the building’s polished exterior, then to the distance, where she imagined the warmth of her granddaughters’ presence. She sighed inwardly. She wasn’t foolish enough to think this night ended with a cozy family reunion. No—this was trial mode. She was under observation. Monitored. Contained.
Still, she nodded. Played along. Adapt or lose it all.
And then the elevator doors opened.
Hild’s brow lifted the moment she stepped into the penthouse suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Crystal lighting fixtures. Velvet cushions and marble counters. The skyline sprawled like a crown laid bare just for her. She slowly turned to Noloty, lips twitching upward.
“You reserved the penthouse,” she purred, draping herself over the plush sofa like it was a throne. “You do know my tastes.”
Noloty didn’t respond with a smirk or an eye roll. She just sat beside her, calm as ever, as if this were any other Tuesday.
And for a rare moment… Hild was content.
They sat in a quiet rhythm, wine glasses untouched on the table. Conversation flowed, sometimes with sharp jabs, sometimes with long pauses, but it flowed. About the city. About fashion. About old gods and politics. Nothing too personal—nothing too dangerous.
Yet even in the mundane, something had shifted.
Her daughter didn’t see her as a threat tonight. She wasn’t treated like a monster or a ticking time bomb. She was… company. Maybe even family.
Hild looked toward the skyline, swirling her wine glass idly, then muttered softly, “I’m not used to being tolerated, let alone hosted.”
Noloty glanced at her, brows arched slightly. “Don’t get comfortable.”
Hild laughed—low, warm, and entirely genuine.
“Too late, darling. I already am.”
