It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
There’s a deep serenity in the early mornings that can’t be found in the late evening. People are still out - rowdy, drunk, or fucking. There’s an energy that continues doggedly on until everyone realizes that it’s futile to resist the lure of sleep, or perhaps, to pretend that one will ever be able to actually fall asleep. She likes this time of morning, it’s when she gets a lot of her ‘work’ done (let’s not pretend it’s paperwork, the Grounds doesn’t have that kind of bureaucracy yet), when she’s most comfortable with her own thoughts.
Wessex can walk (or jog) along the Grounds and usually find that all is well. These are the sort of things she does that no one knows about: patrols, her examinations of the fields and the crops, the moments when she stands in the woods and tries to listen for the animals and determine if there are enough to hunt. Checking in on the Naturals in the outskirts… and they may not like her, but she is present.
Abasi’s early rising interrupts her regularly scheduled programming; it’s not a bad thing, but it warrants investigation. Not because of who he is or what he does, but rather to satisfy her own curiosity. Making her footsteps louder than usual, the Wraith draws up behind the hunched over man and peers over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” she asks, wondering what he’ll say about playing with the mud like a child.
Wessex can walk (or jog) along the Grounds and usually find that all is well. These are the sort of things she does that no one knows about: patrols, her examinations of the fields and the crops, the moments when she stands in the woods and tries to listen for the animals and determine if there are enough to hunt. Checking in on the Naturals in the outskirts… and they may not like her, but she is present.
Abasi’s early rising interrupts her regularly scheduled programming; it’s not a bad thing, but it warrants investigation. Not because of who he is or what he does, but rather to satisfy her own curiosity. Making her footsteps louder than usual, the Wraith draws up behind the hunched over man and peers over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” she asks, wondering what he’ll say about playing with the mud like a child.
