WESSEX
It doesn’t sound like Aamu has a good opinion of her family, but in the end, she has to give some strangers the benefit of the doubt. “Maybe,” she concedes. “Maybe the early ones didn’t want to live in a cage. Maybe it got so bad for the later ones that it was worth the risk of trying. Or yeah, maybe they schemed and thought too highly of themselves and that they might succeed where others failedMaybe they were taken by monsters. And maybe now she’s avenged them.
Maybe they died of dehydration from diarrhea or starvation or in fights. Maybe the women grew barren at the loss of their cycle. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
“I wish I knew.” Because knowing, at least, is half the battle.
As for Magrethe? Wessex sighs and lets herself fall to one side, laying down and facing the stars, her face no longer lit by stones, but turned to a familiar, comforting sight. “She got sick and wasted away,” the demigod says softly, folding her hands on her breast and purposefully driving her attention upwards. “First my mother, then her. A long, incurable thing. And then she was gone.”
And I was alone. Is still alone. Except for the Voice.
“Well. I won’t press you.” If he doesn’t want to talk about it, who is she to make him? The curiosity burns inside her, gnaws at anything from the before times. Any inkling of what life was like then, anything to learn from - she would gobble it up and still ask for more.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
