WESSEX
“Not right now, no,” there’s a matching, comiserate hint of sadness in her tone and Wessex doesn’t do anything to try and hide it. Lilliane's whole appearance, flour and all, reminds her too much of Amalia, and Gods, she thought she'd dealt with that blow better. Apparently not. “But I was an Accepted for almost forty years, so I know what I’m missing.” And she does miss it, some days, along with drinking and fucking and being able to feel the sun’s warmth on her face.
“I’ll take some for the festivities.” Despite… everything, some traditions die hard. Is she likely to curry any respite by leaving sweets out for Ludo? No, probably not. Does it make her feel a little bit more normal? Sure. Let’s go with that. Shrugging away her real answer to how she’s doing, the Wraith plays the diplomat well enough. “Eh, been better. How are you? Is there anything you need in particular?”
“I’ll take some for the festivities.” Despite… everything, some traditions die hard. Is she likely to curry any respite by leaving sweets out for Ludo? No, probably not. Does it make her feel a little bit more normal? Sure. Let’s go with that. Shrugging away her real answer to how she’s doing, the Wraith plays the diplomat well enough. “Eh, been better. How are you? Is there anything you need in particular?”
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
