you wouldn't even recognize me anymore
not that you knew me back then
Her feet feel like lead. Heavy, cumbersome in a way that shoes will never feel again. Wessex could break many-a-thing with a solid stomp at this point, but the dread that her ability to step down might be in jeopardy is something else entirely. The fear that Isla may not share the same view and that she may not entirely trust Bastien to lead by himself simmers, just below a boil, somewhere in her chest. And what then? Go ahead with it? Take it back?
To delay the conversation would only be detrimental and all too soon the Wraith finds herself at the Infirmary. Signs of the fire mar the edges of the door, streaks of soot and smoke darker than the wood itself. Wessex knocks a couple times and peeks her head around the frame, looking for a blonde head.
“Isla?” she calls. “It’s Wessex.”
And it occurs to her, briefly, that she's only been in here once or twice. Feels like she's in almost foreign territory.
To delay the conversation would only be detrimental and all too soon the Wraith finds herself at the Infirmary. Signs of the fire mar the edges of the door, streaks of soot and smoke darker than the wood itself. Wessex knocks a couple times and peeks her head around the frame, looking for a blonde head.
“Isla?” she calls. “It’s Wessex.”
And it occurs to her, briefly, that she's only been in here once or twice. Feels like she's in almost foreign territory.
but it all comes back to me in the end
WESSEX
