WESSEX
the wraith
she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
“I’ll start at this end,” she says, turning towards the hindquarters of the goat (which wasn’t terribly large to begin with) and reaching for a boot-knife. “Save the guts for Loki?” she asks while eyeing the haunches and feeling out the joint and where best to cut. The little dragon should have some kind of consolation, she thinks, the lingering echoes of sadness still coming in waves down the line.
“Mostly. There was an odd Firling - you remember the happy little tree things? - that got into the Temple right at the beginning. It definitely didn’t seem jolly, maybe even downright possessed by something. But it shot something at me and now I fucking smell like wintergreen.” Rolling her eyes in the dark, the fact that she’s still incredulous about this is obvious. “Even I can smell it.” Snorting in emphasis, she finds her hands wet now with the blood of the goat as her knife slips into the still-warm flesh and begins to disembowel it.
"You guys? Did Nate get Isla's letter about the Greatwood folks?"
“Mostly. There was an odd Firling - you remember the happy little tree things? - that got into the Temple right at the beginning. It definitely didn’t seem jolly, maybe even downright possessed by something. But it shot something at me and now I fucking smell like wintergreen.” Rolling her eyes in the dark, the fact that she’s still incredulous about this is obvious. “Even I can smell it.” Snorting in emphasis, she finds her hands wet now with the blood of the goat as her knife slips into the still-warm flesh and begins to disembowel it.
"You guys? Did Nate get Isla's letter about the Greatwood folks?"
and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah
the hallelujah
