[SWE] The Festival of Lights

A few turn to pay attention to her, but alas, she is neither physically imposing nor important enough to warrant actually anyone actually listening. So she silently seethes, letting her already present resentment towards these ignorant foreigners simmer and bubble some more. Her hands slowly curl into fists, jaw clenching as her words are ignored. This isn’t right. At least she  isn’t alone in thinking it. Another native approaches her, one she’s familiar with due to his trade, but not exactly friendly. Rory, the leather guy.They have a working relationship, in that their product/customer knowledge of each other works for Wessex and she doesn’t want anything more. Normally she’d be curt, business-like, maybe even move away, but right now they’re on the same team. Naturals against the World. “I don’t like them,” she hisses back quietly, eyes narrowing towards the revelers. Those fists begin to uncurl, trading immediate anger for a something farmore calculated, as the hand between them begins to move towards the knife at her hip... Before she can do anything even remotely destructive, an Outlander begins to hobble towards them, prompting a low growl from the back of the Ascended’s throat. Ugh. Fine. This isn’t a night about her personal preferences, it’s about something bigger, yadda yadda yada… She’s still tempted to hiss at Koel like a feral queen, but a glance towards Rory keeps her quiet. She doesn’t need clothes anymore, but he doesn’t know that, and his skill makes her look badass, so… don’t piss off the guy who keeps you from being naked. Though that might be something to try one day… see what kind of effect it has on Natural and Outlander alike (she has a feeling there are some carefully hidden deviants amongst both groups). Instead, she grunts a barely recognizable “Evening,” towards the Outlander. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm