a promise in a mouth of savage teeth

WESSEX after all is said and done you're just a carnivore let you in and drink my blood you're nothing but a monster It all shifts in front of her eyes: the ice, the bones, the image of the many-toothed Goddess, to which she offers her own fanged smile. There’s such a violent beauty in Eirachi, she thinks, and if there’s anyone who can appreciate ferocity and call it attractive, it’s the Wraith. “Yes. I want to know how to successfully harvest mage glass. Where it is, the obstacles, and how to overcome them.” As for another task… her plate is filling up quickly with requests and obligations. There’s the Voice, the cannibals… but they both know Wessex is curious and as prone to flattery (this isn’t necessarily flattery, but to her the implications from Eirachi are there) as anyone else. “What is it?” she asks, figuring there’s always the option to say no.