One step forward


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#1
"In."

Wessex will find herself at the mouth of a giant pit. To call it so, however, diminishes how much work has gone into its maintenance. The sides are smooth with intricate ruins. At the bottom there are rugs and mats for comfort, the diameter of the visible section nearly 50 meters across. Around the circumference, there are entrances that lead back to rooms furnished with organic and hand-made beds, blankets, and even a crude kitchen. The ascended will need none of these things of course, but it isn't like the pit was made specifically for her.

"In." They repeat. "Delah will judge your fate when she returns."

Coding base by Sky!
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
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#2

Led to the edge of a large, wide pit, Wessex looks down, into the darkness. She can see the entrances, but not what they lead to. The runes shimmer and she can make out - no, this isn’t the time for that, not yet. Later, perhaps, when this Delah appears and she needs to whip something out of her ass to save her own skin. Resolved to make the best of it, Wessex turns and offers the horde behind her a little bow and a cheeky smile. “Until we meet again, then,” before jumping into the pit without so much as a prod from the Fae.

Time to wait. Which might actually be the hardest part of this trial, for Wessex is patient only when there’s a reward worth waiting for. Inconsistency and the unknown have the very real potential to drive her up the proverbial smooth walls.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

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#3
these violent delights have violent ends
Her work was never done, which was precisely how she liked it. Why she was in charge.

Why her people were safe.

With a snarl upon her lips and a strangely golden-tinge to her moss-green eyes, the warrior of the fae approached the mouth of the pit where Wessex had been placed nearly half a day before. Given that it was daylight, Delah did not expect to see her simply loitering at the bottom. It was why the warriors around her carried a massive net-like device made of woven leaves, which they raised up and behind Delah, casting a significant shadow into the pit.

If Wessex to burn, it would be at Delah's hand, not the sun's.

"Trespasser." She called into the pit, voice rich and strong despite her diminutive size.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
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#4

Tresspasser.

She’s being summoned from her rest. With a sigh and not knowing that the Fae have been selfishly kind (is kind the right word? For saving her from a celestial death only to put her to death themselves?) by erected a shadow, the Ascended rises from one of the beds in the little caves, dons her cloak and after a couple of moments, steps out into the open area. Looking up, she sees that there is a bit of protection, and ends up putting the hood down, so that she might better see what’s above, and conversely, they might better see her.

The woman at the top is tiny but fierce and all the weapons, all the matriarchal tradition in Wessex want to recognize the War Chief for the pinnacle of female power that she is - but that would require a different scenario than the one between them.

Steady and calm, the tall blonde looks up at her captors, her jury, her potential executioner. There are no words that can sway her case yet, so she chooses to remain quiet and listen - her mind has already spun a hundred different ways this could go. None of them start with blatant arrogance and bravado.  Instead, she waits, everything part of her body on high alert.

They will find her much different than their previous captives.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

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#5
these violent delights have violent ends
"Your own queen stipulated that you leave our woods alone, and yet you were found wandering within." Delah says. Her eyes like pinpoints of flint freckled with jade stare down into the pit. Ringed suddenly by gold as her eyes adjust to let her see farther and with more accuracy, the war chief too internally is appreciative of who and what Wessex is—the warrior, not the abomination of flesh—but gives no outward sign of this approval.

"You were given a chance to leave, but did not. Why?"
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


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#6

Wessex manages to keep herself from laughing at the Fae's use of the word 'Queen' to describe Zariah. Doing so would likely send this already perilous conversation sideways, and besides, it isn't an actual question, just a statement. It can be addressed later, if the opportunity arises. She nods to acknowledge the truth of the matter: she was given an opportunity - kind of them, really, to offer a way out of a messy predicament- and didn’t take it. She chooses her words very carefully, now. And luckily for her, the opportunity arises.

"I have a task that goes above and beyond whatever that egotistical brat thinks she can command."

Aka, not my goddamn Queen.

“Thank you for the opportunity to leave. It was more than generous. I apologize for coming here. If it could have been avoided, I would have left you in peace.”

Both of which are true. She has two very big fish to fry, and one of them is only getting bigger and more foul. But she also cannot leave a task undone.

Delah

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

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#7
these violent delights have violent ends
The warchief stores this reaction away but gives no outward sign of acknowledgement. She too has been charged with a litany of accusations since taking up the crown from her own father. Being disliked is not always a sign you are doing something wrong.

Shifting her weight slightly, Delah narrows her eyes. "What task could possibly require such trespassing into the Greatwood?"
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


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#8

And here’s where it inevitably gets tricky. As an abomination, confessing that she does the work of her Lady is bound to be met with hostility, recoiling, and potentially more. If Amalia, she who once loved (perhaps still does, but that’s another feeling for later) Wessex, can say that she doesn’t know if Wessex should have lived, say that she must be burned out, then what will the Fae think? Wessex was at the Longheat celebration, she saw the dedication to Safrin with her own eyes.

“One that requires me to see all of the world as we know it.”

Let them draw their own conclusions.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

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#9
these violent delights have violent ends
"As we know it?" Delah scoffs. "You want to see the frozen lands to the west? The city of stone? The vast jungles, the islands?" Raising a brow, the warrior shakes her head.

"Our woods are not yours to explore, task or not. None of this is meant for you."
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
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#10

The mention of other places beyond her ken sends her reeling for a moment, jaw dropping ever so slightly. And then her mind catches up; of course there are lands beyond the Greatwood. While she hasn't found any mention of them yet in the Atheneum - assuming that she gets out of the pit alive, there is an immediate spark of interest and wanting to know more. To see more. "Of course I want -" Wessex begins, but is cut off by the shake of Delah's head.

None of this is meant for them. So she says, very emphatically. But then - then what happened before the Barrier rose?

"I hear you. It's not for me to stay or move in to. I would not send anyone in after me. You know what I am, and that is universally despised. But what about before the Barrier? Did we mix? And is there anything that would let me pass through quickly?"

She looks up at the war chief, questions in her eyes and a calm sincerity on her face. The longer she can keep the Fae talking, the longer she has to persuade her to let her live.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

Age: 100 | Height: 4' | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
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#11
these violent delights have violent ends
"Mix?" Delah repeats, incredulity and confusion rife in her tone. "No. The ascended have never been welcome in our woods. You, who are as far from the natural world as one can be, have no place in the greatwood.

With a scoff, the war chief shakes her head. "Pass more quickly? I am not sure what part of this conversation is causing you confusion. You are not welcome. Your mission, quest, task, whatever it is, means nothing to me. Why would I care to aid you, especially when it is precisely your presence here which is killing our woods?"
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


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#12

It’s stupid, but in the end, she snaps a bit, frustration building from events out of her control, events that hold emotional trauma in a body that was not built to hold on to trauma. Her brows raise and she quips back quickly, “The part where you said ‘you’ but failed to specify whether it was because I am an Ascended or from the Hollowed Ground. Specifics matter.

Wessex looks up at the sky, at the prison she’s in, the smooth walls with their Fae-runes, and then back at Delah. With a shrug in response to the question, she turns to go to the tunnels. She has no more to say. Either do something with her or leave her be, to waste away in the pit. But now that their position is clear - there will be no help - there isn’t any point in the Ascended woman sticking around to bandy words with the war chief.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

Age: 100 | Height: 4' | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
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#13
these violent delights have violent ends
The display of emotion, however hostile, makes the war chief smirk. Was that really the length of her wick? Already burned down to the quick of her anger?

"Both." Delah replies, her disdain clear. As Wessex turns to leave, the far raises a brow, eyes narrowed. Will she try to tunnel her way out? Has she some secret strength that is dormant, waiting for the moon to ignite her power?

In a voice that sounds like stones against steel, Delah gives a command to her warriors. Triple the guard as soon as the sun sets.


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