WESSEX
Gods above, this might be the closest Wessex has been to ‘nervous’ in a long time; walking into a crack in a glacier is no big deal, but somehow seeing if people want to start a Guild with her, is. Try and figure that one out, armchair psychologists (hint: it has to do with her distinct lack of ‘friends.’) Loki circles, swoops, and dives above the Wraith as the cloaked and leather-clad woman waits on the beach. The light still lingers, but the chill of an oncoming storm is in the air. Nothing on the horizon yet, but there’s a feeling of something incoming. Eerily still in some ways, the demigod slowly paces, each foot seeming to be deliberate in its placement. She’s listening, waiting, and half-expecting to fail; after all, she is no innocent figure. Either directly or indirectly, there’s many a person’s blood on her hands - who in their right mind would want to join a Guild with a person who might get you killed?
Only someone in their wrong mind,that’s who.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
