WESSEX
On second thought, perhaps the Ascended queen should let them be eaten. It’d certainly relieve a lot of the headache of this entire encounter. Phoebe, being her usual soft self, lets Wessex push her aside, before running her mouth and disturbing the quiet and likely attracting whatever creature is approaching.
They don’t have time for all of this chatter, and whether Phoebe hates her or not, Wessex is smarter than the midwife when it comes to survival. After all, she’s died once before, and come back. If Phoebe wants to try it, then she can be her guest. For now? Wessex does not plan on dying round two. She nudges Phoebe out of the way further with a glaring look of daggers. ”Shut the fuck up” It seems to say. She isn’t feeling nice when there’s a creature on the loose, a creature they don’t know what it wants yet.
She releases a set of her claws, right as the glint of something catches the Wraith’s eye, only seconds before the clawed hand reveals itself around the corner. The shadow is fucking huge, and while Wessex isn’t small, fairly tall compared to some of the other naturals, she doesn’t know what kind of shape it takes. Its head seems far too big to be held on a body that thin, but – perspective always has a way of shifting things.
After a brief moment, what would probably be a heartbeat or two for the midwife, Wessex gestures with a clawed hand toward the pile of ash. “Do not make a sound, go see what that is.” Yeah, she’s trying to be reasonable (and quiet), but if Phoebe wants to keep running her mouth, she won’t feel bad if whatever this is gets a healthy snack, so long as she’s nowhere near it when it does. If the midwife does, or doesn’t, Wessex will continue to slip back to avoid the hand, to avoid being seen the best she can, readying her upgrades just in case.
Better to be prepared than to be dead, after all.
They don’t have time for all of this chatter, and whether Phoebe hates her or not, Wessex is smarter than the midwife when it comes to survival. After all, she’s died once before, and come back. If Phoebe wants to try it, then she can be her guest. For now? Wessex does not plan on dying round two. She nudges Phoebe out of the way further with a glaring look of daggers. ”Shut the fuck up” It seems to say. She isn’t feeling nice when there’s a creature on the loose, a creature they don’t know what it wants yet.
She releases a set of her claws, right as the glint of something catches the Wraith’s eye, only seconds before the clawed hand reveals itself around the corner. The shadow is fucking huge, and while Wessex isn’t small, fairly tall compared to some of the other naturals, she doesn’t know what kind of shape it takes. Its head seems far too big to be held on a body that thin, but – perspective always has a way of shifting things.
After a brief moment, what would probably be a heartbeat or two for the midwife, Wessex gestures with a clawed hand toward the pile of ash. “Do not make a sound, go see what that is.” Yeah, she’s trying to be reasonable (and quiet), but if Phoebe wants to keep running her mouth, she won’t feel bad if whatever this is gets a healthy snack, so long as she’s nowhere near it when it does. If the midwife does, or doesn’t, Wessex will continue to slip back to avoid the hand, to avoid being seen the best she can, readying her upgrades just in case.
Better to be prepared than to be dead, after all.
