by the light of the moon

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 The sun sets. Wessex blooms. Figuratively, of course, but she can feel the strength flowing through her silvery not-blood as the earth rotates, sending the sun down and setting the moon high in the sky. The clouds are cast in a brilliant salmon-pink and gold, the stars just begging to be allowed to twinkle, stretching their light into the dusk as elegantly as they can. The Ascended woman leaves her shield behind and comes into the center of the pit. In a slow rotation, she counts the guard and find their number increased, which sets a small, satisfied smile fleeting across her face. So. She’s dangerous, is she? The little war chief can scoff all she wants, but there is a message in her night-guard. Not just we’re not going to let you escape, but we’re also not sure what you can do. Which is nothing, really. Edy’s powers of disintegration won’t let her break through any walls. She can’t fly. Won’t fight fire until she has to, has to save that valuable one for when she really needs it. With soundless movements, she waves up at her guard in case they’re watching, and then lies down on the floor of the pit, staring up at the stars and the moon - seemingly quite content - nay, almost the perfect picture of calm, happy, repose. What prison? Wessex is on vacation.