WESSEX
Wessex chuckles. “I’m probably not like anyone else,” she says, not in a humble-brag way, but in a matter-of-fact way. ‘Marches to her own tune,’ her mother used to say, along with ‘stubborn enough to be a mule’ and ‘you’ll either outlive us all or die tomorrow.’ The stupidly brash young woman often thought she’d die tomorrow, and then somehow, perhaps by sheer willpower alone, managed to outlive them all. When you have nothing left, it’s easy to jab unknown objects into your skin and see what happens. Death is the worst thing, right? And she’s already died. It’s just… empty blackness for her. No memories. No afterlife. Nothing to fear, other than regret.
Before she answers Rexanna’s next question, however, she fixes the woman with a long, serious look. She openly admitted in their previous encounter that she’d become a pawn of Zariah, and while Wessex didn’t ask what that meant, she is quite cautious. She doesn’t doubt the would-be-Ascended’s intentions, but intentions don’t make everything all right. She weighs the risks and after some long, quiet moments (potentially awkward, who’s to say they aren’t?) she says only, “I escaped from trouble with Zariah. Thought this would likely be the last place anyone would look for me.”
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
