when water is as thick as blood

WESSEX

Sometimes you have to push to make your point. To lead another to the brink and show them the fallout before they can safely return to the guardrail. Sometimes it is with a gentle, guiding hand, and other times it is with cold calculation, with tempestuous force and a ramrod spine, an iron stomach.

The bridge has been severed. On one side, the dissonance of reality has frayed the ropes, the admission of not knowing whether Wessex should have lived or died is the final straw. The slats clatter into the abyss, hitting the stone wall deep below the misty nothingness of uncertainty and dark grey emotions that lay muddled between the two women. The Ascended is angry, yes, but moreso disappointed in the young woman that sits before her, crying and lost when faced with the difficulties of life. She makes no move to comfort, no gestures that say this will be okay, it will sort itself out. Because it might not.

Whatever happens, it won’t be up to Wessex. Amalia is the one who must mend this bridge - or not.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the older woman finally says, managing to find her voice, though her throat seemed to grow thick and immobile for a couple of minutes. “Considering that I took the same journey as Ronin, more or less. Have you considered that? We are the same miracle, to some extent.” And did Amalia not weep for Wessex, upon her death? Was she not overjoyed to find her alive again? Does it truly matter who does the resurrecting, if happiness if the same outcome?

Wessex rises smoothly and begins to wipe the dirt and specks of plant life from her clothing. “I have never been against anyone’s worship of the Old Gods. I might personally have my issues, but never plotted to destroy their religion. All you’ve ever heard is one side of the story. I do not claim to be right, but I do exercise my right to live freely. To think for myself.” She sighs and looks away, towards the Hollowed Grounds. “I’ve always shown up when needed. Been reliable to those I love. And I’ll continue to show up for you until the time I have to defend myself and my Lady against you.”

Another long pause, in which Wessex looks at the girl, at the beautiful, passionate, kind woman she has become and wonders how she missed the religious fervor, how she could have been so blind to the single-mindedness as it developed. Deep down, there is a sense of failure. But perhaps it was better to get this out in the open, so that if - or when - the time comes that they’re on opposite sides, they will be prepared.

Wessex will have lost everything, then. Everything except her brethren, for she can’t imagine any of their mutual acquaintances ever choosing herself over Amalia. And so, almost hoarsely, as if she is trying to hold back the image of standing alone again, she finishes with a quiet wish. “I truly hope that time never comes.”

No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all