I've embraced the torch passed to me
owned what I've been called to be
“Mmmm,” she affirms with a quick hum. “It’s so blatantly Ascended.” And all the better that she knows what his arm looked like before, so that he now has a story about trading something that had been destroyed for something even better. An upgrade that is truly an upgrade. Those are the kind of things she finds delightful.
And so is the fact that her arrow has now landed in his parents’ room. That vague sense of teenage rebellion has never truly left Wessex and it surfaces again with a short huff of amusement as she lowers her bow to grab another arrow, listening intently to his description of the Ruins. It makes her stop what she’s doing and look around at the surrounded rock - heaps of it in someplaces and flattened in others, some houses still standing while others boast nothing more than the foundation. But it’s hard for her to imagine it all being tall.
“As tall as the Spire?” she asks, brow furrowed ever so slightly. She can imagine a Haulani here, a Snowcloak like place, but huge parties? That was - they say you don’t miss what you don’t know, but Wessex can imagine something better and always has, and a sort of wistfulness invades her face as Cal describes what she can only imagine as a utopia.
“I’m the last of my line too,” she says with a small nod. “A lot of us are. The Occidendums, the Theskyras, Athanasias… were they upset that you Ascended? Your parents. I mean, was it more acceptable then?” Once Cal clears the statue, she nocks her arrow and aims for the crook of the statue’s arm, giving herself a very small target. “Through the armpit,” she calls, and then lets it fly. At this range, her aim is pretty damn good so it sails cleanly through with a bit of a whistle, but leaves her wanting a bit more of a challenge.
And so is the fact that her arrow has now landed in his parents’ room. That vague sense of teenage rebellion has never truly left Wessex and it surfaces again with a short huff of amusement as she lowers her bow to grab another arrow, listening intently to his description of the Ruins. It makes her stop what she’s doing and look around at the surrounded rock - heaps of it in someplaces and flattened in others, some houses still standing while others boast nothing more than the foundation. But it’s hard for her to imagine it all being tall.
“As tall as the Spire?” she asks, brow furrowed ever so slightly. She can imagine a Haulani here, a Snowcloak like place, but huge parties? That was - they say you don’t miss what you don’t know, but Wessex can imagine something better and always has, and a sort of wistfulness invades her face as Cal describes what she can only imagine as a utopia.
“I’m the last of my line too,” she says with a small nod. “A lot of us are. The Occidendums, the Theskyras, Athanasias… were they upset that you Ascended? Your parents. I mean, was it more acceptable then?” Once Cal clears the statue, she nocks her arrow and aims for the crook of the statue’s arm, giving herself a very small target. “Through the armpit,” she calls, and then lets it fly. At this range, her aim is pretty damn good so it sails cleanly through with a bit of a whistle, but leaves her wanting a bit more of a challenge.
full tilt,
hello destiny
WESSEX
