you wouldn't even recognize me anymore
not that you knew me back then
“Just let me - touch -” she growls at the creature, half a season of restraint hitting hard on her frustrations and exhaustion. She’s been so good, her systems all in check, and she’s so godsdamned tired of holding back. Just a little touch. Just a little. Why can't she ever get one thing she wants?
She’s so close, so close, to touching the fire-crown; Wessex has it by the arm and is reaching again for its head when a Hel comes and begins pecking at her own head. Of course, she has to shoo it away, but she forgets that it’s crucial to retain a hold on the creature, so she shoos the Hel away with the wrong hand, giving it time to get away. Meanwhile, the Wraith has unsheathed the talons one the shooing hand and is half-swiping, half-poking it away.
She’s so close, so close, to touching the fire-crown; Wessex has it by the arm and is reaching again for its head when a Hel comes and begins pecking at her own head. Of course, she has to shoo it away, but she forgets that it’s crucial to retain a hold on the creature, so she shoos the Hel away with the wrong hand, giving it time to get away. Meanwhile, the Wraith has unsheathed the talons one the shooing hand and is half-swiping, half-poking it away.
but it all comes back to me in the end
WESSEX
