[SWE] The Core and the Voice

There is a moment when Wessex wants to push 108 back, to be the one to take The Core and release the barrier - but there was something in the Ascended’s awe-struck voice that held her back. It said she’s waited all this time, and the warrior knew that her few harried months as an Ascendant could not compare to the decades, nay, century or more of the old one. Her face was the face that had waited 365,000 days or more, and nothing would stop her from being the first. Not any of these normal folk, and certainly not Wessex. That consideration is what saves her, and as the electricity surges, the flash and the howling make her turn her head and close her eyes against the ash and ceiling dust, Wessex is glad she didn’t unknowingly sacrifice herself. Perhaps most importantly, there’s no guilt for what she allowed the other to do. There is only the knowledge that they knew the risks, and they were free to make their own choices. Aedion, whom she has a feeling she will never see again, never should have gone in. He was too new. Kristopher? She can’t say. Her siblings and allies are gone, but there will be others, and they have freed their Mother. They’ve left her with her strongest child. They’ve ensured survival. Is that not love? Some are out of what remains in the door in a flash, while others linger. Wessex turns to watch the expressions, tries to find Edy in the group, processing only now her touch from before. She watches Lucas offer his coat to the dessicated, dried out husk of a battery that was the Voice. It’s chivalrous. Belatedly so, but the offering in and of itself intrigues her. They’d once spoken of riches and rewards to be had, and she makes a mental note to find him in the next couple of nights. Slowly, she takes a turn around the top of the Spire, looking out at the World they’ve opened up. Out there is the prize. This is a dusty wasteland. Gods, she wishes Magrethe could see it all. WESSEX come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts unsex me here