WESSEX
Wishing Wagon, eh? Looks like quite the normal wagon to Wessex, despite the clever alliteration. A wagon filled with trinkets, she surmises, immediately suspicious of its appearance and the handsome, albeit sweet-talking, Outlander. The Ascendant is already out and about tonight, dressed in a little more than her usual leather get up. Loose pants. A sleeveless shirt. Easily led the scene by both Will o’ Wisps and torches, the sounds of unworldly music reaching keen ears. The man seems to be doing all he can to attract them, so like a super flammable moth to the flame, Wessex approaches. Pointedly ignoring Roana, taking her time to visually examine the items from one side to another before she reaches the end of the shelving. She keeps an amused, but otherwise indifferent expression on her face, neither finding joy in the many items or dismissing them outright.
Until she comes to the Map. Her eyes flit from the inked piece of gold to the handsome merchant. No doubt he knows what is in his wares, and he knows his audience. This thing will not come cheaply. And while she doesn’t know his sexual preference, it’s a damn shame she doesn’t have a dick to woo him with.
Having made her selection, the wiry woman stands back and boldly makes an offer. “A personal favor, for the Map.” She has nothing to offer except for her body (har har) and her services. He has the ‘protection’ of Roana (by the way, who’s watching her kids?) so he doesn’t need another bodyguard. But a favor? Well, that he could save for whenever he might be in genuine need of it.
If the Map is what she thinks it is (and fuck it, it may not be), she will get just as much out of it. The risk is worth it - she doesn’t have a personal Ianto to show her the ways of the Wood. Anything to get ahead.
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
