mysterious as the dark side of the moon

So she’s a bit of a cougar. Can’t blame women of a certain age for trying. Lust may not saturate the place between her legs anymore, but that doesn’t mean she forgets how it feels. And it’s all fun and games, really, to see how far she can take it, ‘cause there’s something to be said for still being able to attract a pretty teenager’s attention. Wessex leans in, keen to hear exactly what this girl had in mind (and they still don’t know each other’s names - maybe it’s better that way), when something even more out of the this world drops out of nowhere. The Ascended doesn’t need enhanced vision to be able to see the shine of drool and glimmer of teeth, to smell the rankness of its alien body. She barely has time to take a breath in order to tell the girl to move when it lashes out. She reaches for the long knife she keeps at her hip, grabbing it point down, in order to stab as quickly as she can. With the other hand, she reaches for Edrei - any part of her - trying to pull her away. The sound of her pain makes Wessex grit her teeth. Adrenaline jacks up her reflexes, and she is unable to temper her strength. She may not like Outlanders but fuck this thing and its cock-blocking appearance. Gotta get the girl out of here. Luckily, the monster turns its attention to her next, and as Edrei stumbles away, Wessex moves forward, ready to slice and dice until… it seems to stop. What the actual fuck?  She snarls silently and bares her fangs, reaching down for another knife sheathed at the top of a boot. Spit lands on her face as the creature screams, and she doesn’t know if it’s in pain from the girl’s magic, or it’s a challenge - because The Ascended was dumb enough to piss off a God, and now she’s seriously considering sticking around to try and figure out what this ugly, sentient hunk of flesh is and what it can do. “Go!” she yells to the injured girl, before doing the stupidest thing she’s ever done (full-on insane, really, but this is no time to analyze Wessex’s psychoses); leaping up, hoping to clear the monster’s head area, both knives outstretched like clawed arms. There’s no prayer to the Gods on her lips, just an overblown faith in her speed and strength, pure determination, and the need to know more than the rest of her people.   Maybe if she’s lucky, someone will come along before dawn and move her mangled body to safety. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm