mysterious as the dark side of the moon

“Well…” a snort-chuckle-retort. ”Your private nicknames ain’t so cute,” Wessex shoots back, running over the various colorful insults that have drifted through her mind the past couple of months. She assumes Edrei can take the ribing - nothing about her screams delicate, other than the length of various limbs. A good whack in the right place and she’d be screaming. Such is the frailty of humans. The girl’s slinking doesn’t go unnoticed. Wessex stands her ground against the cold stone, sliding along its firm edge to draw closer to her. Not so close as to intrude on personal space, but… right on the verge of inappropriate. There’s no need to talk as loudly now, and the older woman’s voice drops down to a more suggestive level. A rough, pale hand joins the darker one in tapping ever so lightly on the surface. “Either that or its a greedy fucker and wants more than one.” There’s always the possibility that the inanimate object prefers a man’s touch… but that really just seems like such a waste when it has the classic ebony and ivory trope at its proverbial feet. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm