WESSEX
I’m nice to those who deserve it. She barely protests the statement, knowing it isn’t an accusation of any sort, just an observation about the Wraith’s nature and the world they’re stuck in. And besides, she wants Hotaru to feel special, one among the few who have earned gifts and promises and sweet words from someone who’s name is cursed in other parts of Caido.
She can think of nothing other thanAstor’s snail pace death that would keep her from the Mistbanks. Anticipation, surprise - and happiness - seep out of her. Her heart is full and there can be no hiding or containing that pleasure. Done. The last full moon of Leafchange. And if the world hasn’t ended by LongNight, then too. It feels risky to promise something so far away, at a time that is traditionally a disaster waiting to happen - but these are the side effects of lust and infatuation: gilded promises, far away plans, and the best of intentions.
An edge of concern colors her next words, as she meets the lioness’s gaze. I’m never that far away. And this is the truth. Rolling over to her front, she scooches out from underneath the feline and when she has enough space, begins to shift back. Some things needed hands. Some things needed lips. “I can’t come to the Greatwood, but you’re always welcome in the Grounds. The Ascended can always find me.”
Reaching out to stroke the tawny fur, Wessex’s hands are gentle, and then firm, trying to find that spot betwixt cheek and ears, as if this beautiful, fierce predator were nothing more than a tame housecat.
She can think of nothing other than
An edge of concern colors her next words, as she meets the lioness’s gaze. I’m never that far away. And this is the truth. Rolling over to her front, she scooches out from underneath the feline and when she has enough space, begins to shift back. Some things needed hands. Some things needed lips. “I can’t come to the Greatwood, but you’re always welcome in the Grounds. The Ascended can always find me.”
Reaching out to stroke the tawny fur, Wessex’s hands are gentle, and then firm, trying to find that spot betwixt cheek and ears, as if this beautiful, fierce predator were nothing more than a tame housecat.
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
