WESSEX
Wessex decides a few things very quickly. First, this place is shit, and she wants out of it as soon as possible. Second, the midwife is virtually useless. Third, the pink dragon makes up for Phoebe’s inability to do anything other than grovel for the gods.
Things don’t seem to turn up so well at the moment, though, as the ascended puts the key into the lock, turns it, and tries to open it. Fuck, it’s jammed. Because of course it is. At least Phoebe has distracted the demogorgon and she can focus on trying to open the door, preparing to ram her shoulder into it to give it enough of a push to open up.
When suddenly… There’s a plume of purple smoke. And is that…? It’s drunk?! Honestly, can’t get any better than this. (Read: sarcasm.) Entirely annoyed and still somewhat anxious around the fire that burns closer and closer, she doesn’t mind that the satyr ignores her. She hadn’t been the one to beg for its appearance, and she’s more than happy to let Phoebe deal with it.
It could either serve to distract the creature, or help open the door. Against her better judgement, she lets Phoebe decide.
The queen takes a few steps away from the door, preparing her shoulder enough and silently thinking of her Lady, of how she might be able to heal whatever injuries might occur from ramming her fucking shoulder into the door. And without a second thought, she takes a few quick steps, hoping to dislodge the door.
Things don’t seem to turn up so well at the moment, though, as the ascended puts the key into the lock, turns it, and tries to open it. Fuck, it’s jammed. Because of course it is. At least Phoebe has distracted the demogorgon and she can focus on trying to open the door, preparing to ram her shoulder into it to give it enough of a push to open up.
When suddenly… There’s a plume of purple smoke. And is that…? It’s drunk?! Honestly, can’t get any better than this. (Read: sarcasm.) Entirely annoyed and still somewhat anxious around the fire that burns closer and closer, she doesn’t mind that the satyr ignores her. She hadn’t been the one to beg for its appearance, and she’s more than happy to let Phoebe deal with it.
It could either serve to distract the creature, or help open the door. Against her better judgement, she lets Phoebe decide.
The queen takes a few steps away from the door, preparing her shoulder enough and silently thinking of her Lady, of how she might be able to heal whatever injuries might occur from ramming her fucking shoulder into the door. And without a second thought, she takes a few quick steps, hoping to dislodge the door.
