Back to where it all began; the root of their problems, some might say, with blame flying from both sides in heavy, vicious amounts. Wessex pauses to touch the place where the the Ascended opened the door, giving a silent though to Aedion, Kristopher, and 108 before moving silently into the black obelisk. Her eyes seamlessly adjust to the darkness inside and confirms what the rumors have said: The Spire has since been hollowed out, or spliced in two. Whether or not Safrin herself plummeted through the tower and into the basement to do… something… doesn’t interest her. The basement is not for her tonight.
Up the stairs she goes, silent and quick, hugging close to the wall to avoid falling in to the rubble way down at the bottom. Up to the top, where her Lady was imprisoned for far too long. When she reaches the open platform, the night is strangely calm. A light breeze blows, making it a little chilly for regular people but the air down on the ground is still and cool. Wessex stops and looks around, remembering where 108 stood where she was friend, how their Lady hung from the ceiling, and the crowd of hypocrites.
The blonde Queen shakes her head as she moves to the edge, crouching down and then scooting forward enough to dangle her bare feet over the edge. Leaning back to lay down and look at the stars, she folds her hands over her stomach and just stares up into the cosmos. A million and one things flit through her ever-active mind: a hundred things to be done, a thousand people to be proven wrong, a trial to win, a world to explore, and an extended lifetime to live.[say] “Lady, give me patience,”[/say] she finally exhales into the night sky, sending her exasperations and desires to the ether.
Up the stairs she goes, silent and quick, hugging close to the wall to avoid falling in to the rubble way down at the bottom. Up to the top, where her Lady was imprisoned for far too long. When she reaches the open platform, the night is strangely calm. A light breeze blows, making it a little chilly for regular people but the air down on the ground is still and cool. Wessex stops and looks around, remembering where 108 stood where she was friend, how their Lady hung from the ceiling, and the crowd of hypocrites.
The blonde Queen shakes her head as she moves to the edge, crouching down and then scooting forward enough to dangle her bare feet over the edge. Leaning back to lay down and look at the stars, she folds her hands over her stomach and just stares up into the cosmos. A million and one things flit through her ever-active mind: a hundred things to be done, a thousand people to be proven wrong, a trial to win, a world to explore, and an extended lifetime to live.[say] “Lady, give me patience,”[/say] she finally exhales into the night sky, sending her exasperations and desires to the ether.
