WESSEX
the wraith
she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
Every area has a shrine (their ancestors were meticulous that way, or so it seems), and the Climb’s is in the last tunnel she visits. When Wessex and Loki enter the obsidian engulfed area, the two of them are captivated by the scene it seems to paint; an abandoned place of worship, fire-wrought, a basin for - what? Fire? Blood? “Remind me to stop and take a good look at everything on the way back,” she murmurs to Loki, before making a beeline for the shrine.
First, she takes the time to tidy up the bones, arranging them into a neater (not quite so artistic, but not not artistic) pile; Loki assists with her tail. Sweeping away bits of debris until it looks more abandoned and less neglected. Then the Queen situates herself on her knees and tries to sink into the feeling of the hollowed out black bubble.
“Tanau - if you’re there, I have an urgent issue to ask you about. Please.” there’s a bit of hesitation before she adds, “It’s Wessex, the one your sister sent to help you.” As if that claim might persuade him to appear. If Eirachi has dealt with her, then perhaps he might be willing to as well. Or perhaps she’s the only one currently stupid enough to try and talk to the unknown and unpredictable seasonal Gods.
Well. No reward without any risk.
First, she takes the time to tidy up the bones, arranging them into a neater (not quite so artistic, but not not artistic) pile; Loki assists with her tail. Sweeping away bits of debris until it looks more abandoned and less neglected. Then the Queen situates herself on her knees and tries to sink into the feeling of the hollowed out black bubble.
“Tanau - if you’re there, I have an urgent issue to ask you about. Please.” there’s a bit of hesitation before she adds, “It’s Wessex, the one your sister sent to help you.” As if that claim might persuade him to appear. If Eirachi has dealt with her, then perhaps he might be willing to as well. Or perhaps she’s the only one currently stupid enough to try and talk to the unknown and unpredictable seasonal Gods.
Well. No reward without any risk.
and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah
the hallelujah
