WESSEX
No one really knows where Wessex lives. Could be underground, could be in the basement of a house, could be in her mother’s home… makes it easy when you don’t want to be found. Kind of hard when you do. But she’ll take that trade off over the opposite any day. The good news is that she has a kind of routine and great vision, so something bright and fluttering in the woods will eventually be found - if not by her, then by somebody else. Someone will be waiting for
Sitting at the base of the tree, Wessex stands when the man approaches, wiping the damp leaves and dirt off her ass before turning to face him. For once, it seems, she has a pleasant expression on her face when she looks at him - and why shouldn’t she? He’s done her a favor he didn’t have to do. That doesn’t deserve snarkiness. And before she asks for the book (whatever it may be), she even has the decency to try and be cordial. “How did it go?” she asks, curious about his experience in the village and whether or not he got off without any problems.
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
