when water is as thick as blood

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Without turning around, her hands busy at their task and the blade scratching irksomely aaginst the stone, Wessex smiles a little half-smile, one side of her mouth turned upwards for the water to see. “Hello Amalia,” she says warmly the young woman, as if she was once again the babysitter pretending to have eyes in the back of her head. Now, however, it’s the sound of her footsteps, her smell - though there is something else there, she doesn’t know what it is. What does a starwhale smell like? Like the metallic lightning of Ronin? The sea? The sugar and spice and warmth of its bonded? It has been a long time. They are long overdue for a talk, but then there has also been conflict. The Ascended knows Ama is an ardent devotee of Safrin, that if she had been present she might even have stood against the night-walkers as they worked to free The Voice. Rory’s told her enough about LongNight that she’d forgiven the girl for running off without her. Not everyone things clearly at that age - Wessex knows she certainly didn’t. And of course, the older woman hears talk around the settlement. She may not know specifics, but she does know the baker has been quite busy. Part of her is envious. Part of her sighs and thinks the goodwill and popularity that she enjoys is such a waste of potential and power. Part of her knows it isn’t the Chandrakant girl’s path. So as she puts a piece of lichen into a small pouch, she casts her eyes over her shoulder at the adventurer and pauses at the sight of Jyoti. Well. She has been busy, hasn’t she? “I see we have some catching up to do,” comes with a bemused expression. It is as much invitation as it is a demand. Sit, girl. No time like the present. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul