WESSEX
Doing a quick count on her fingers, Wessex hems a bit. “Actually, there are eleven of us… “ Even she is surprised that the number is in the double digits. She does a quick recount, just to be sure. “Eight that I know are still around… not sure what’s become of the other three.” And to be honest, she didn’t care about the other three. They weren’t on her side. “But no, in theory not many can earn this kind of ‘favoritism.’ Said with air quotes, the demigod shrugs. There were a lot of factors that went into it, she thinks - not just a single-minded dedication. “Anyway, I’m not sure they’d allow anyone else to have that kind of power now. Have you heard of the different - well, we call them races, but it’s really just categories of people. The Abandoned are called so because the Gods don’t like them much. It isn’t their fault, they’re born with the magic gene, but because of the voice, all magic-users who aren’t demigods have to worry extra hard to curry any God’s favor. They’re pretty scared of it happening again..” Though if you asked her, she’d say that Remi is pretty fucking close to being a god in and of himself. It’s hypocritical of Ludo, but whatcha gonna do?
Exhaling needlessly at the continued line of questioning (and all the new Outlanders these days had questions in a similar vein), the General isn’t paying much attention when something stings crawls out of the apple and stings her. In fact, she doesn’t feel pain at all, so it’s only the brief flare of her sensors that indicates anything’s wrong. Furrowing her eyebrows, she quickly looks around her body, and then when she moves her hand, notices the briefest flash of something ‘hanging’ off it. “What the…?” she murmurs, holding her hand up to get a better look.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
