Child of the Night

It is all she can do to stumble out of the sudden wave of light - unnatural, deadly - surely a thing of magic and godly powers. Once on the ground, Wessex scrambles hand over hand, kicking clods of dirt in her wake. A heel slips into the light, smoking almost immediately. She hisses, baring her fangs to the darkness and whatever the fuck it is that chases her out of the glade. As she reaches the tree edgeline, she gains some space and is able to turn to face… Nothing. Except a voice, roaring at her, and her flight or fight instincts kick in. It wants to call her your kind, it’ll fucking get an animal, instead of whatever she should be. Wessex sucks in a lungful of air and hurls her anger back at the voice - she has nothing to lose. “If you fucking took care of us, I wouldn’t have to be this! You disappeared and you don’t deserve us!” Death and starvation and misbegotten creatures stand behind her rage - crazy enough fight a god - but weak enough to fall before the light. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm