the Voice
"Perfection takes time, bright one. Worry not about the delay."
She appeared at once before the statue of the young girl, a beatific smile upon her face. There was something brighter about the Voice these days, though rightly so she had decided to keep a low profile since the fall of the Spire. But that did not mean there were not plans worth pursuing. Holding out her hands to expose her wrists, she wordlessly invited Wessex to replenish herself.
At the mention of the map - the shifting map of the Greatwood - her static eyes become very, very interested. "Indeed," she murmured. "Might I see it?"
She appeared at once before the statue of the young girl, a beatific smile upon her face. There was something brighter about the Voice these days, though rightly so she had decided to keep a low profile since the fall of the Spire. But that did not mean there were not plans worth pursuing. Holding out her hands to expose her wrists, she wordlessly invited Wessex to replenish herself.
At the mention of the map - the shifting map of the Greatwood - her static eyes become very, very interested. "Indeed," she murmured. "Might I see it?"
