“Oh, I haven’t been in the Citadel,” Wessex says easily, waving it away. After all, her teleportation is no secret; Chuy, Neron, and Morgan all know, and Weaver knew - she doesn’t expect Korbin to be out of the loop. “I come and go as needed.” And with three very different areas, there’s a lot to ‘tend’ to and keep her eyes on. She didn’t choose the nomadic life, the Voice chose it for her.
Choosing to ignore the fact that Astor can’t read, Wessex nods at the offer of assistance to find her knife. “It’s about this long,” she says indicating her forearm, “Blade included. Dark wood, serrated at the tip, smooth at the base.” But other than that, there’s nothing to distinguish it from other knives. And while her voice is low, she cares little for the ruckus they might make whilst looking for it. Maybe if the Kraai had been cleaner it might have been easier, so it’s the sleeping patron’s own fault.
The Wraith
the bright
the thing in the night
the bright
the thing in the night
Wessex
