WESSEX
Ol’ Bertha. Probably one of the last people Wessex wanted to see wandering around the market. A lifelong loather of the Theskyra clan. For the life of her, the Wraith couldn’t understand why the old hag still lived in the Grounds, she seemed to hate everyone in it. Maybe she was going to outlive them all through sheer stubbornness and spite. Scowling right back at the hunched figure as soon as she wandered into view, Wessex is momentarily spared from any further interaction by the banshee. “This lady again?” she mutters to Alexander, jerking her chin at the Banshee, who seemed to be headed right for the market. Cool cool cool cool cool.
And is it Bertha the banshee has her sights on? Wessex pockets her pretty pieces and takes a few steps towards her ready to intervene if necessary.
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
