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When the last bit of snow refuses to move, Wessex frowns to herself, lips pursing into a thin line of slight annoyance. Suddenly stalking forward to see what could possibly be holding it up, she finds the patch of memory snow and sighs to herself. The woman begins to gather it up, rolling and patting it into what is obviously the base of a snowman. She moves it out of the corner of the field to a semi-watchman like post before rolling two smaller balls to add on top, hopefully getting all bits of memory snow she can find. And what’s more, she’s made a useless sentry to keep the freezer company.
With a satisfied chuckle to herself (no name for him in her head yet, but it’ll come), the demigoddess heads over to where the rest are working to see what else might be needed.
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Wessex makes a snowman-sentry out of the memory snow and moves it off of the field.
With a satisfied chuckle to herself (no name for him in her head yet, but it’ll come), the demigoddess heads over to where the rest are working to see what else might be needed.
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Wessex makes a snowman-sentry out of the memory snow and moves it off of the field.
WESSEX
