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“No,” Wessex replies quietly, affirming her stance again. “None of our Gods are perfect - except Caido, maybe, but we don’t know him at all. I can’t forgive her, but then I can’t forgive any of them. I believe in her vision and I can hope that it’s the right way, I can see how she’s reconnected the world and healed people. But like any child, it’s best to be realistic about your parents. Don’t put them on a pedestal.” She sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile there.
“The Voice has flaws. She isn’t infallible. But she gives without asking for anything in return, she’s brilliant, actively figures out a way to change and improve things, and she doesn’t think any other race is… an abomination, you know?” Shrugging, the demigod seems to land somewhere between acceptance and hope, all too aware of both her power and her powerlessness in this fucked up situation. When she lays it out, it’s an easy choice for her. For others, they land differently.
“I even think that most people on the Old God’s side - the Outlanders, at least - don’t think of us as abominations. They just… got angry at being brought here, or found a God here similar to one of their own, or found it’s easier to follow the majority. I mean, Safrin’s gorgeous and heavy-handed on the manipulation. It isn’t easy to resist her.” Wessex shakes her head sadly, thinking of people she’d prefer not to have as enemies. Budding friendships torn away, working relationships and mutual respect dashed against the rocks. It’s a mess now.
Their other question hits her belatedly and Wessex backtracks a bit. “Anyway, I don’t know if there was another way to get out. Can’t hardly expect a god to roll over and just accept imprisonment, can you? I mean, would you?“ Looking over at them, it’s clear that the General doesn’t have any kind of concrete answer to their question, other than she wouldn’t take imprisonment lying down either. Wessex is a fighter. And maybe that’s why she can turn a blind eye to more than she likes to admit.
“The Voice has flaws. She isn’t infallible. But she gives without asking for anything in return, she’s brilliant, actively figures out a way to change and improve things, and she doesn’t think any other race is… an abomination, you know?” Shrugging, the demigod seems to land somewhere between acceptance and hope, all too aware of both her power and her powerlessness in this fucked up situation. When she lays it out, it’s an easy choice for her. For others, they land differently.
“I even think that most people on the Old God’s side - the Outlanders, at least - don’t think of us as abominations. They just… got angry at being brought here, or found a God here similar to one of their own, or found it’s easier to follow the majority. I mean, Safrin’s gorgeous and heavy-handed on the manipulation. It isn’t easy to resist her.” Wessex shakes her head sadly, thinking of people she’d prefer not to have as enemies. Budding friendships torn away, working relationships and mutual respect dashed against the rocks. It’s a mess now.
Their other question hits her belatedly and Wessex backtracks a bit. “Anyway, I don’t know if there was another way to get out. Can’t hardly expect a god to roll over and just accept imprisonment, can you? I mean, would you?“ Looking over at them, it’s clear that the General doesn’t have any kind of concrete answer to their question, other than she wouldn’t take imprisonment lying down either. Wessex is a fighter. And maybe that’s why she can turn a blind eye to more than she likes to admit.
WESSEX
