WESSEX
the wraith
she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
Fiat Lux prep sounded like a suitably mindless task; something to keep the hands busy and the brain more or less blank. Once upon a time, a younger, far less jaded Wessex helped her younger sister make a seemingly endless supply of flower crowns. It couldn’t be that hard to remember - or improvise. There was the potential issue of attendees as Deimos wasn’t her first choice of company these days, but there were likely to be others - perhaps someone she doesn’t mind right now. Or not. She could sit in the corner and make grumpy stick figures and wilted supplies until the Festival started.
A Festival she wouldn’t be attending.
Maybe this time, if disaster strikes, it'll take out a lot of Fae. Even the odds. The dark thoughts circulates as she approaches, the final in a group of four. Nodding to everyone, Wessex is pleasantly surprised to see Chuy, unaware of what - or who - brings him to the Grounds.
A Festival she wouldn’t be attending.
Maybe this time, if disaster strikes, it'll take out a lot of Fae. Even the odds. The dark thoughts circulates as she approaches, the final in a group of four. Nodding to everyone, Wessex is pleasantly surprised to see Chuy, unaware of what - or who - brings him to the Grounds.
and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah
the hallelujah
