The Wraith doesn’t really get tired these days, but that - that was emotionally exhausting. Her head and heart are weary, tired of justifying, tired of defending, aching for both a real fight and real rest. She exits the Athenuem post-Melita with her two books, feeling like she’s just been put through a mini-Mathair fight again and more than ready for a drink. Maybe that should be her next upgrade - a pleasure sensor or something, so she can partake in the finer things in life again.
With a soft sigh to herself, she finds a place in the open Sanctuary to sit and opens the book. The white pages are a mere dim reflection of the moonlight to anyone else in the darkness, but to her, more than easy to read.
With a soft sigh to herself, she finds a place in the open Sanctuary to sit and opens the book. The white pages are a mere dim reflection of the moonlight to anyone else in the darkness, but to her, more than easy to read.
The Wraith
the bright
the thing in the night
the bright
the thing in the night
Wessex
