[Seasonal Event] Table for one, please

This seems to be her year of reckoning. Some might call it karma, other simply bad luck or bad decisions… but to Wessex, it is simply Caido and the natural way of things. Some die. Some live. Some fight and win. Some fight and lose. Up until the end of Leafchange, she’s been all wins. Statistically, it’s time for some losses, but she’ll be damned if it’s her life again. The locks click, the bar comes down gently, and she presses her hands against the wood of the door. Anger still courses through her, but the flames have dimmed and she begins to cool down, ever so slightly. Her thoughts are with Rory and Amalia - until the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight on edge and the dogs whine fitfully, alternating between pacing back and forth in the middle of the living room and trying to cower behind her. The creak of the floorboards pulls her head around, but she stays frozen in position, all senses on the fucking highest alert they could ever possibly be right now. There is no one in the house but her and the dogs. She knows this. It is simply the house settling. And then the rocking chair begins to move, and Wessex has to admit that she is no longer alone. Her mind is not playing tricks on her. BUT. She has learned something from her recent demise, and it is no small lesson. Rather, it is something she seems to have forgotten since the Outlanders arrived, pushing her buttons and stomping all over her home. Patience. Planning. Silence and Stillness. She quellss even the false breaths she takes, eyes trained on the rocking chair and the area around it. The Ascended listens and she waits, remembering that she is superior. Whatever is in there with her will have to make the first move. WESSEX come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts unsex me here