[Queen Hild]

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.

[Queen Hild]

*Has a wicked grin on her face noticing how staff and customers alike keep staring at her* I don’t bite…yet!

[Queen Hild]

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.

[Queen Hild]

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

[Queen Hild]

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.”