WESSEX
Nostalgic? Wessex has to take a beat to actually figure out the swirling mass of nebula-like emotion in her belly. “Yes and no,” she answers quietly, turning to face Sunjata. “Can’t tell if I’m an emotional masochist at this point or trying to find new reasons to keep fighting.” Which is a bit of an exaggeration; they both know that Wessex wont stop fighting until she’s dead-dead. Some days just feel like an uphill slog in quicksand, and this is one of them.
A flash of something hits her and an eyebrow quirks quickly upwards. “Silly me, I forgot congratulations are in order.” Slapping the raccoons down on the counter, she offers her hand to the Grounds’ newest leader. An Archon. Whatever that is.
A flash of something hits her and an eyebrow quirks quickly upwards. “Silly me, I forgot congratulations are in order.” Slapping the raccoons down on the counter, she offers her hand to the Grounds’ newest leader. An Archon. Whatever that is.
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
