WESSEX
the wraith
It’s so fucked up that it’s come to this, and in the ‘early’ days of the illness, perhaps it’s easier to break through to the surface, rise for a breath of fresh air before beginning to drown again. Some lucidity seems to come to her eyes at the Outlander’s permission, and she swallows without needing to. “I feel it some times,” she whispers to the dark corners of Chulane’s abode. He is there, and he is not there. Her words are for Kiada and herself. Memory sends her back to the bowels of the Earth and the heat rises in her. “I shouldn’t, but I do. I feel the lava and Deepfrost drives it back. And I don’t -”
the flaming feathers disappearing into into the magma,
the heart-broken cries,
“It wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought - people, maybe? Nothing like that, and there’s nothing about it, nowhere to learn -” Wessex’s nails scratch at her face in despair, Goddess, she’d tried and tried and tried to find out more. She’d tried to get others to come along, tried everything. “And you were so nice to me at the guild, I know it’s what Monster Hunters do, but you were too young.” She hangs her head. “We made mistakes. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”
You can see it in their eyes, in Hotaru's and Amalia's and Chulane's.
It isn’t, really. But as head of the expedition, it is.
Saying it aloud is sobering. Wessex lifts her head and looks at the veterinarian with clear eyes, delirium gone for now, for now, for now. “And now we’re all sick, and that’s my fault too.”
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
