the devil is not as black as he is painted
The Voice nods. "To have something return to your hand...to hear the metal sing in a way arrows don't, and that swords only manage in shallow arcs..." She smiles, pleased that Wessex is as enamoured with the object as she is. 'I hope you don't mind the change. It will be so much more efficient this way." The Voice murmurs, before turning her eyes back to the glittery horrors written in glowing blue on the walls around them.
"Over the years." She confirms. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if a single incident added this much in its own right." Waving a hand, the phantom blood disappears. "One day, when the fighting is done and peace is at hand, we will demolish this place and start new." Her lips twitch. "I have always hated this temple most of all." It is the only place in existence where she and the HerAldS can be called upon from the same shrine.
"Over the years." She confirms. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if a single incident added this much in its own right." Waving a hand, the phantom blood disappears. "One day, when the fighting is done and peace is at hand, we will demolish this place and start new." Her lips twitch. "I have always hated this temple most of all." It is the only place in existence where she and the HerAldS can be called upon from the same shrine.
