WESSEX
the wraith
Standing at the base of the spire, a fair distance back so she can see the top of it, Wessex stands uncloaked as the sun sinks beyond the trees. Preternaturally still up until a light breeze ruffles the tips of her hair, she tucks it all back in place and then adjusts her position to one that screams ‘I’m thinking’ instead of ‘I’m just creepily standing here at the base of my Goddess’s prison.’ If it weren’t for the fact that a couple of years ago (Gods, has it been that long) they couldn’t get anywhere near this close to the Spire, she might have appeared as some of them knew her before she Ascended. Out and about like someone untroubled by the sun. Pensive. Solitary. Borderline unapproachable, save for a select few.
Ah, how some things do not change. Here, at least, she is reminded of her Lady and her constant presence in the Wraith’s life. And also here, at the site of so many cataclysmic events, does she still feel quite alone. Everyone seems to have someone... except for Wessex. Even her fucking nickname bears witness to her solitude.
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Turning in Astor's bday companion pass.
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
