:restart

There was pain. And screaming (more screaming than she’d ever heard, never mind that it came from her own throat, raw and ripped open). And then blessed, blessed nothingness. Wessex was gone. There was no afterlife, neither heaven nor hell, no stupid limbo-slash-purgatory. Just an end to her consciousness. Except - it wasn’t. Something in her switched back on again, and all the little pieces that had been known previously as Wessex came whirring back to life, chugging along again like the little train (with a terrible attitude) who could. She seems to be face up when her lungs start working again, eyes opening to find a dark, cold softness surrounding her. It takes her a moment to realize it’s snow. How did she fall asleep in the snow? That’s so dumb, she would never fall asleep in the snow, what the fuck did she do? Oh. RIGHT. Right. That was just… beyond dumb. Beyond teenage boy stupid. Beyond… fuck, there aren’t any words to describe how idiotic that was. Yeah. She deserved that. A quiet sigh, and then her usual denial of feelings about the whole thing. After pushing through her burial shroud, Wessex can do nothing other than stand, naked, and examine herself in the moonlight. One piece. Everything seems to work, she even… damn, she even feels better than before she died. Rather than linger in the Spire’s vicinity, the blonde woman sends a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to The New Gods and slinks off to find appropriate clothing. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm