empires fall when we move the unmovable, so tell me all of my secrets, tell me all of my lies,
Dropping her chin to her chest, Wessex allows herself to feel the sense of defeat that’s been welling up in her for hours now. Leaning into the Voice, her own hands clasp opposite elbows as she hugs herself too, not necessarily feeling any better about anything, but incredibly grateful for the offered comfort in the face of vague and unhelpful news. Revenge for Evelyn, it seems, is unlikely. She can accept this, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling rather useless, even when she knows the truth is that she is far from it.
“It’s hard not to feel responsible in some way for their deaths,” she confesses quietly, acknowledging that she knows the truth, but like anyone charged with taking leading of a group, each loss can feel personal, particularly when they’ve developed a relationship - when they’re a small community. “I know I can only do so much, that their decisions are their own… but it doesn’t seem right to grow brighter and brighter when our youngest barely make it a year.”
“It’s hard not to feel responsible in some way for their deaths,” she confesses quietly, acknowledging that she knows the truth, but like anyone charged with taking leading of a group, each loss can feel personal, particularly when they’ve developed a relationship - when they’re a small community. “I know I can only do so much, that their decisions are their own… but it doesn’t seem right to grow brighter and brighter when our youngest barely make it a year.”
WESSEX
