empires fall when we move the unmovable, so tell me all of my secrets, tell me all of my lies,
The storm clouds had lingered on the horizon, ballooning with rain and an ominously heavy blanket over the Grounds. Humid. Hot. Altogether more swamp-like than their barren little town had any business being, Wessex is content to listen to the complaints while not being able to feel the sweat drip between her tits - better yet, not to sweat anymore.
When the wind finally picks up and the storm rages in, the Queen stands in her window and watches. It’s probably a little creepier than she means it to be, she’s simply… happy to be out of the Underground. Happy to be back here. Not so happy to have her time filled up with war-time preparations when she’d rather be out investigating Tallulah and the Prince (and you sure as hell can bet that theories are bouncing back and forth in her head).
Eventually that very same wind pushes the storm on, out past the ruins to whatever lies beyond, and the Queen leaves her house again as it subsides from a downpour to a drizzle, taking a moment to deliberately splash through the puddles in front of her house.
When the wind finally picks up and the storm rages in, the Queen stands in her window and watches. It’s probably a little creepier than she means it to be, she’s simply… happy to be out of the Underground. Happy to be back here. Not so happy to have her time filled up with war-time preparations when she’d rather be out investigating Tallulah and the Prince (and you sure as hell can bet that theories are bouncing back and forth in her head).
Eventually that very same wind pushes the storm on, out past the ruins to whatever lies beyond, and the Queen leaves her house again as it subsides from a downpour to a drizzle, taking a moment to deliberately splash through the puddles in front of her house.
WESSEX
