Go
deep throat
a cactus
More evasiveness. No acknowledgement that part of her statements were true: had Amalia or Deimos or Ronin not been there, the meeting wouldn’t have happened. More throwing it back on her for not being more cuddly and dependent like everyone else to excuse not treating her like a person who has actual feelings. Like a person worth respecting.
Excuses, excuses, excuses. And she’s so fucking over it.
And like the walking, emotionless robot they apparently think she is, Wessex’s face remains in a calm neutral. Ronin still doesn’t get it. He never will. That’s his privilege as the golden star boy and no one will be able to get him to see it, because they hero-worship him. He’s never wrong, and then he brings it back to himself and his woes. Classic male move. She doesn’t feel guilty for not batting an eyelash regarding his apparently imminent death, so there.
Wessex begins to shut down again. The mask slips back down again. The Wraith returns.
Every inorganic molecule of her wants to say no. She wants to punish. She wants to be vengeful. She wants to be indulgent, the way others are. And she’s about to, (dying be damned), when Edy yelps from the couch, causing Wessex to look at the nymph and remember what she’d said earlier, about wanting him to stay. About her own insistence that she loves her home and wants it to thrive. And then, their desire to permanently replace Zariah. To be better. The growl that’s bubbling inside her is swallowed forcefully back down, and the Ascended Queen sets herself once again to the task of proving them all wrong.
Still, there are some very long moments while Wessex considers if this is actually what she wants to do, heavy gaze more often on Ronin than not. “Fine. For Caido.” For herself, for her dreams of mountains and dragons and giving her Lady the world. For Edy (kind of). This is the path of least resistance, or so it would seem. “Rebellion disbanded. Two-thirds majority on disputes. And an as yet undetermined punishment for going rogue.” Looking between the two of them, Wessex rises and pushes away from the table.
“I think that’s been plenty for today.”
Excuses, excuses, excuses. And she’s so fucking over it.
And like the walking, emotionless robot they apparently think she is, Wessex’s face remains in a calm neutral. Ronin still doesn’t get it. He never will. That’s his privilege as the golden star boy and no one will be able to get him to see it, because they hero-worship him. He’s never wrong, and then he brings it back to himself and his woes. Classic male move. She doesn’t feel guilty for not batting an eyelash regarding his apparently imminent death, so there.
Wessex begins to shut down again. The mask slips back down again. The Wraith returns.
Every inorganic molecule of her wants to say no. She wants to punish. She wants to be vengeful. She wants to be indulgent, the way others are. And she’s about to, (dying be damned), when Edy yelps from the couch, causing Wessex to look at the nymph and remember what she’d said earlier, about wanting him to stay. About her own insistence that she loves her home and wants it to thrive. And then, their desire to permanently replace Zariah. To be better. The growl that’s bubbling inside her is swallowed forcefully back down, and the Ascended Queen sets herself once again to the task of proving them all wrong.
Still, there are some very long moments while Wessex considers if this is actually what she wants to do, heavy gaze more often on Ronin than not. “Fine. For Caido.” For herself, for her dreams of mountains and dragons and giving her Lady the world. For Edy (kind of). This is the path of least resistance, or so it would seem. “Rebellion disbanded. Two-thirds majority on disputes. And an as yet undetermined punishment for going rogue.” Looking between the two of them, Wessex rises and pushes away from the table.
“I think that’s been plenty for today.”
