WESSEX
the wraith
Sure, there are a thousand pressing matters to attend to, but none of them seem important right now. Even Ronin can wait, the monsters on par with the Old Gods. She finds it bitterly ironic that he’s lying in a building dedicated to the forces that ultimately killed him, and she wants to take him away from here. But Clem is not hers, and taking a body anywhere right now is out of the question. So she has to make do with this semi-public display. “Yeah,” she says quietly, without turning around. When Dante comes to kneel beside her, she’ll offer an arm around his shoulder, something sturdy and not-quite warm, to lean against. The shock of it all, the extra person, the pure helplessness she feels keeps the Wraith silent until Dante says something again, causing her to shake her head and look up. “No, it’s not. It -” Goddess, how does she do this?
“It makes me want to scream. And kick and punch things. Preferably a person,” she adds a little darkly, picturing exactly which face her fist would connect with. Faces, if she’s being totally honest. “It’s not fair at all. He didn’t do anything.” Ah, there’s that guilt again. Her head falls into her hands and she cradles it in despair, peaking up over her fingertips to look at Clem’s body again, as if maybe, maybe it won’t be there the next time she looks.
And that’s a scary thought, because she Wraith has always been mostly logical. Bad things happen when she lets her emotions get involved. If they wanted to hurt her - hurt them, they’d done, it but they’d also lit a fire, too. “And I should have been here. To save them.” It’s her home, after all. Even if the people there don’t want her.
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
