the birds are whispering

WESSEX after all is said and done you're just a carnivore let you in and drink my blood you're nothing but a monster She sits cross-legged at the end of the bed, back against one of the bed posts, facing the half-dressed woman. Half-relaxed, but perhaps giving the impression of being at ease. Her laugh projects it too, when  she calls Edy out on her turn of phrase. “Like you don’t love that I’ve come knocking.” She knows the power she has - even more now (in multiple ways) - and who the fuck doesn’t want to be wanted. Or sought after. Not always the same thing. “Yeah, I was out of town, didn’t hear about it until I got back.” she offers as an excuse, accompanied by a one-shoulder shrug. And then a matching grin. “Heard they wanted me to advise Zariah. That would have been a disaster.” Like anyone could advise her. Like she would have listened. Like they wouldn’t have been arguing within the first hour and someone dead or in prison (re: this lady, right here) the next. But you know what wouldn’t be a disaster? Edy and Wessex. She finds the glass on the bedside table. “You like it?”