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« on: July 01, 2013, 12:25:46 pm »
Hestia, meanwhile, mused on what the destruction of the hearth near Matt's resting place meant.
"That flame was a flame of gods. No mere mortal could put it out.
If the murderer had returned...impossible. I would have seen her through the influence of the hearth. I didn't see what destroyed it.
All I know is that Matthew's resting place has been disturbed. No, desecrated.
I must venture there myself. I cannot summon myself to the Mistress.
No, I will have to go myself."
Hestia sighed, stoking the hearth once more, before putting on a small, red woolen coat and scarf, and boots, to hide her tunic, and then hid her eyes with magic, before venturing down to Greece.
"I must stay out of the eyes of mortals. While on mortal soil, I am bound by the Mistress' laws.
I must make great haste."
Fire grew around her feet, and Hestia began a march to Switzerland. She would be there inert hours; the flames sped her up, a trick she never used to fight but Hermes, a good friend, had taught her.