we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write
Every time the Voice reveals something about herself - something personal, something about the past that’s more than just facts - Wessex’s love for her Goddess increasing. As does her wish that all of Caido could know this side of her. Smiling to hear the woman’s name said so tenderly, the demigod finds herself briefly (morbidly) hoping that her own name might one day be said the same way. If, for some reason, she doesn’t survive this.
“I see…” After a moment, she presses gently for clarification. “Is it the same veiled feeling for you, when you can’t see a place because we haven’t been there, and when the Old Gods have… put their power into something to hide it? Life Safrin’s Library?” Because if it’s the former, that can be rectified. Off the top of her head, Wessex can imagine it’s either in Hak Etme, Stormbreak, or the Draig. If it’s the latter… that might be more difficult.
"Can you feel any others?"
“I see…” After a moment, she presses gently for clarification. “Is it the same veiled feeling for you, when you can’t see a place because we haven’t been there, and when the Old Gods have… put their power into something to hide it? Life Safrin’s Library?” Because if it’s the former, that can be rectified. Off the top of her head, Wessex can imagine it’s either in Hak Etme, Stormbreak, or the Draig. If it’s the latter… that might be more difficult.
"Can you feel any others?"
WESSEX
