WESSEX
the wraith
Chuy hates her. She’s sure of it. She can see his face even when she doesn’t want to, the look he gave her in the Tundra, the silence stretching into an impossibly long (no, infinite) span of time, where all other things go silent and look at her, Wessex Theskyra, Wraith and murderer.
There’s blood on her hands isn’t there? Yes, yes there is.
Kiada. Maea. Aedion. Kristopher. 108. The Fae. Lucas. Rex. Clemente.
Halo stops and stares with Eirachi’s eyes, the ice-world brought to life.
There’s a list in her head. The names, repeated. Who can she begin with? Oh yes, Chuy.
So she must find Chuy.
Well that’s easy, isn’t it? One morning (it is early, early, though both sleep and time are irrelevant now), Wessex puts on her cloak and teleports to the Citadel. Getting directions from a guard, the woman finds the Minister’s house and knocks on the door, insistently. Over and over and over until either the Outlander answers or someone comes to stop her knuckles from leaving their fluid all over his door.
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
