[ She has no idea what love is. She does not know if she feels it for her brood, for her King, for herself. Love is nothing more than a word to her, and she doubts herself that she can make it into anything else. She has never loved, all she knows how to do is save herself.
She hadn't meant to vocalize such a thing to Angel, she had gotten overtaken with one too many thoughts, and perhaps for a moment she was back in her garden alone with only the plants to hear her. She gives the girl an uncertain look, lips pursed. She likes Angel. But... yes, mistrusts her, assuredly. Her eyes are too pretty, it is dangerous. She is too kind and too helpful and Ilde is certain she will need her assistance again. Such is Hive.
(So perhaps, it is herself she mistrusts, most of all.) ]
no subject
She hadn't meant to vocalize such a thing to Angel, she had gotten overtaken with one too many thoughts, and perhaps for a moment she was back in her garden alone with only the plants to hear her. She gives the girl an uncertain look, lips pursed. She likes Angel. But... yes, mistrusts her, assuredly. Her eyes are too pretty, it is dangerous. She is too kind and too helpful and Ilde is certain she will need her assistance again. Such is Hive.
(So perhaps, it is herself she mistrusts, most of all.) ]
I'm sure you're right.
[ A somewhat sour and distant platitude. ]