WESSEX
An hour? Conceited as it may sounds, Wessex can’t remember the last time she’d waited an hour for something. Maybe she’s more out of touch than she thinks she is. That thought alone hits her kind of hard and though she’s caught up in a slurry of hurry up and wait feelings, the General tires to soften, offering an awkward half-smile of acknowledgement.
“Feathers for me too. I’m working on a shrine for the Eirachi outside of Halo. She requires a number of uniquely Halovian items.” Tilting her head a bit to regard the redhead, Wessex finds she can’t recall ever having met her before. “Are you… a hunter, then?” That seemed the best explanation for needing fletching.
“Feathers for me too. I’m working on a shrine for the Eirachi outside of Halo. She requires a number of uniquely Halovian items.” Tilting her head a bit to regard the redhead, Wessex finds she can’t recall ever having met her before. “Are you… a hunter, then?” That seemed the best explanation for needing fletching.
there was a time that we were kind, but now
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
