WESSEX
the wraith
Clem was last because she knew she’d be more vulnerable with him - with what was left of him. Whatever comes with her out of Rex’s room is overwhelmed by the feeling of seeing his body lying there, looking so little and innocent and alone. At least he hadn’t been alone when he died, but that savior complex peaks its ever-present head up and begins to blame Wessex for it,, you should have been in the Grounds echoing over and over again as she stands and stares, hands uselessly at her sides.
Slowly, her lips begin to tremble and the minute shaking spreads throughout her body. A low cry escapes her lips and she steps forward and sinks down beside Clem, the fluid that is now her tears spilling quietly down her face as she takes his lifeless hand. Grasping it gently in one of her own, she twists to look at his face, moving a stray lock of hair gently out of his eyes. Every movement is tender, the lack of words only because she knows that nothing can possibly be said.
It’s been years since she’s wept for someone - she was a different person when Magrethe left her. The pain that comes with Clemente’s death isn’t nearly as sharp as that one was, it’s something… different. More maternal. Less about her and more about the life he never got to live, the people he’s touched, and the love he had for the family. The purpose he was finding. Nate. He may be mourned by few, but the holes he would leave were large and unique. Goddess, she'd loved the kid.
Clasping his hand in hers, she brings the three to her mouth and bows her head. “Oh, Clem. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
