we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write
“Really fucking far,” the other demigod confirms with a wry grin, finally standing up to brush grass and dirt and tiny bugs off her clothes. Turning back towards the Grounds, there’s a moment of hemming and hawing - does she really want to go back right now? Only if they could get something productive out of it.
“Could be, probably sooner if you and I start coordinating and get everyone together for a meeting.” Glancing over and up at him, Wessex’s stare is suddenly quite serious (no shocker there). “You’ve been great with the Shrine and portals and everything, but we’ll both need to do more. Get the others to commit.”
Shrugging, Wessex trails off, the weight of everything that feels like it needs to be done (whether it needs to be or not) growing exponentially as she says. And now she feels like running. Maybe through the Grounds and around the Greatwood and into Hak Etme. Just for shits and giggles.
Breaking into a sudden sprint, the Wraith calls over her shoulder, “To the Outskirts shrine -”
“Could be, probably sooner if you and I start coordinating and get everyone together for a meeting.” Glancing over and up at him, Wessex’s stare is suddenly quite serious (no shocker there). “You’ve been great with the Shrine and portals and everything, but we’ll both need to do more. Get the others to commit.”
Shrugging, Wessex trails off, the weight of everything that feels like it needs to be done (whether it needs to be or not) growing exponentially as she says. And now she feels like running. Maybe through the Grounds and around the Greatwood and into Hak Etme. Just for shits and giggles.
Breaking into a sudden sprint, the Wraith calls over her shoulder, “To the Outskirts shrine -”
WESSEX
