WESSEX
Shaking her head, Wessex doesn’t dwell on the fact that she knows absolutely nothing about the origin of the myth. “Nope. The Fae are insular and before now have spent more time fighting each other than not. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Festival was historically a rare moment of peace between the Sidhe and Stonesong clans, but I’m also not on good terms with any of the Fae.” So if she wants answers - and why those matter, she can’t fathom - Maea will have to go to the winged folk themselves. Turning to Libbs, Wessex makes a face. “Deepfrost brings LongNight. It seems to be limited to the Ground, but it’s a week of no sun and murderous monsters. It’s a nightmare. So, no. We dread it all year. “As for what to bring… just a second.” Wessex blinks out of sight in front of them, teleporting back to her shack and rummaging around for a couple of things before teleporting back. In her hands are two things: a small pouch, which she proceeds to dump a couple of red, particularly beautiful stones from, and a candle with a sun burned in to two ‘sides.’ “You can bring anything, really - I got these from Melita last year and am bringing this,” she indicates the candle. That is, if they let her in.
Then back to Libbs, who’s describing some of her home world’s traditions.Who.. decorates eggs? And then hunts them? “Sounds… odd,” she says with a tilt of her head.
Seriously, she will never understand Outlanders.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
