death only knocks once

Good question: What kind of freak can’t die? (Ha ha ha, oh the irony of ironies!) Well, Wessex can, it just isn’t likely to be by any method Sarya can think of, unless she unintentionally leaves her for dead in the sun… which assumes a lot in the first place, including a hypothetical scenario where the tables are turned. But for a freak like Wessex, one must often think outside the box in order to keep up. If she could control the Spire Monster, that might be a neat thing to consider, too. Her gaze lazily drifts up and down while the girl takes her in. Menacing or not, she is observant, inquisitive, and bold enough to be so without apology or warning. It’s more than taking what she wants, it’s a blatant disregard for others’ sense of comfort. She likes that the girl holds her ground beneath such a subtle assault. Most would take a step back, do anything to put a little bit of space between them and the creepy woman in the dark tunnels. She shifts to one side allowing a little bit of room to her left (these aren’t wide tunnels, but two could scrape past each other) as she leans lazily against the wall on her right. Arms cross in front of her as chuckles lightly. “Exploring dark tunnels at dusk, in a land you hardly know? Seems…. unwise.” For such a young, pretty thing like yourself. But no, this one won’t stir the flirtations in her the way another will. Not many do, anymore. Aren’t you cold? Wessex shrugs, pulling herself upright again. “Eh. I don’t feel the weather much anymore.” And in a fit of inspiration, she pulls her lips back in a wide smile, revealing her fangs. Her tongue runs across her top teeth before her mouth closes again, and she continues as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Perks, you see.” WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm