dont know where the lights are taking us
but something in the night is dangerous
but something in the night is dangerous
Ah, the neverending search for food. If there was ever a place more scarce and difficult than The Grounds to hunt in, Wessex assumes it must be Halo. And once again she is thankful she need not worry about that kind of nourishment anymore. What the ex-Queen had brought with her the first time - fruit, bread, some pickled things in jars - had been left with the guard at the portal. Where and to whom it goes after that is none of her concern. It gives her free passage, and that is all the demi-god wants.
Today, she climbs. Not so much wrapped up against the elements as merely a precaution against any long-term exposure (they don’t know what the cold might do to their nanites, what appendages might be accidentally damaged out of hubris and folly), she is a single, quick-moving spot on the mountainside - also descending - as she spots the man in front of her. Wessex freezes. Her knowledge of the Halovians is limited to the killers in Whitebrim and Neron (whom she doesn’t rule out as being a killer) and his bumbling guards, none of which she assumes can be stereotypical of the ice-bound area’s citizens. She’s caught between wanting to pull a Kai and observe from afar, and wanting to talk.
She makes a bold assumption in thinking the stranger even wants to talk. But hunters often like to compare notes, so perhaps…
Rather than draw attention to herself with a sound that could call anything else in the area straight to them, she pries a foot-sized rock out of the frozen ground (not necessarily an easy thing to do, even for her) and rolls it down the slope, aiming for somewhere to the person’s left side. Far away enough to intentionally miss, but not so far away for them to be able to ignore it. Wessex boldly follows her attempt at attention, carefully but openly moving down the mountain towards the other.
Today, she climbs. Not so much wrapped up against the elements as merely a precaution against any long-term exposure (they don’t know what the cold might do to their nanites, what appendages might be accidentally damaged out of hubris and folly), she is a single, quick-moving spot on the mountainside - also descending - as she spots the man in front of her. Wessex freezes. Her knowledge of the Halovians is limited to the killers in Whitebrim and Neron (whom she doesn’t rule out as being a killer) and his bumbling guards, none of which she assumes can be stereotypical of the ice-bound area’s citizens. She’s caught between wanting to pull a Kai and observe from afar, and wanting to talk.
She makes a bold assumption in thinking the stranger even wants to talk. But hunters often like to compare notes, so perhaps…
Rather than draw attention to herself with a sound that could call anything else in the area straight to them, she pries a foot-sized rock out of the frozen ground (not necessarily an easy thing to do, even for her) and rolls it down the slope, aiming for somewhere to the person’s left side. Far away enough to intentionally miss, but not so far away for them to be able to ignore it. Wessex boldly follows her attempt at attention, carefully but openly moving down the mountain towards the other.
