empires fall when we move the unmovable, so tell me all of my secrets, tell me all of my lies,
Loki obliges and turns under his ministrations, directing (in her own fashion), his fingers to the hard-to-reach parts, her wing-joints and spinal ridges, the places she can’t easily reach on her own.
Wessex needn’t say the obvious (she likes you/), and even if she did, the conversation is turning in a far more interesting direction. Or it would, perhaps, if there were anyone talking. It’s fine, the Queen doesn’t always listen to listen, she listens to reply and when the man goes still and silent, she is forced to listen elsewhere. To the way he freezes. To the too-long pause. To his clothing and his first question.
New to Caido?
Had she heard him correctly?
As the quiet between them goes on and on, Wessex come to an entirely different conclusion - but isn’t quite sure how to proceed from there. “Yes,” she confirms, with an assertive nod. “Portals to other worlds - and times, apparently - exist. The Voice made them, much like the travel-gates? Between Halo, Torchlight, and the Grounds. Except - different.” And that story is best saved for another day. She rounds on her new conclusion, slowly, like she’s cajoling a cat into coming closer.
“No, not nevermind -” Her head shakes, tone authoritative and motherly, dismissing his deflection. “You’re not an Outlander.” Another statement. Definitive. If he were, he’d probably be up in arms about his sudden change and indignant about being dropped here. She’s met enough newly-portalled to be able to say they have a modus operandi about them. But he’s obviously Ascended, and yet - her nose crinkles at the mystery.
“And you don’t seem to know about the portals, so… are you - who are you?”
Wessex needn’t say the obvious (she likes you/), and even if she did, the conversation is turning in a far more interesting direction. Or it would, perhaps, if there were anyone talking. It’s fine, the Queen doesn’t always listen to listen, she listens to reply and when the man goes still and silent, she is forced to listen elsewhere. To the way he freezes. To the too-long pause. To his clothing and his first question.
New to Caido?
Had she heard him correctly?
As the quiet between them goes on and on, Wessex come to an entirely different conclusion - but isn’t quite sure how to proceed from there. “Yes,” she confirms, with an assertive nod. “Portals to other worlds - and times, apparently - exist. The Voice made them, much like the travel-gates? Between Halo, Torchlight, and the Grounds. Except - different.” And that story is best saved for another day. She rounds on her new conclusion, slowly, like she’s cajoling a cat into coming closer.
“No, not nevermind -” Her head shakes, tone authoritative and motherly, dismissing his deflection. “You’re not an Outlander.” Another statement. Definitive. If he were, he’d probably be up in arms about his sudden change and indignant about being dropped here. She’s met enough newly-portalled to be able to say they have a modus operandi about them. But he’s obviously Ascended, and yet - her nose crinkles at the mystery.
“And you don’t seem to know about the portals, so… are you - who are you?”
WESSEX
