WESSEX
the wraith
There is quite a struggle and Wessex finds herself feeling like she’s trying to tame a wild beast, to cow them with darkness and force and make them realize that struggling is futile. The Wraith holds on, even the girl collapses, her arms both supportive and suppressive all at once - until that little sound comes floating towards her - questioning and diminutive and oh, actually like Melita.“Melita?” she replies in hope, doing her best to whip the cloak off from around the firebrand’s head as quickly as possible - to allow both of them to see. The Queen fiercely searches her mentee’s eyes for any sign of the blackness, the darkness that runs in her veins, mothering hands wiping away black crust and goop if she allows it. There is nothing hard about the Ascended woman now, nothing that screams of the steps she’d just taken to attack the girl, nothing of the soldier they both know. This is all protector, and for a moment, Magrethe sits heavily on Wessex’s tongue, until Fangorn’s sounds draw her back in.
“You’re alright,” she says finally, both as an affirmation to herself and to perhaps reassure the redhead. She’s alright. For now. Hopefully the Queen can get her back to a warm place before the blight returns.
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
