full moon rising on the waters of my soul
As Wessex snatched at Amun’s shirt—she caught him, of course, because he was a fucking slowpoke compared to her—he figured that this was part of the game, and he struggled against her, still trying to get out on the other side of the hedge. Even though she’d cursed, he wasn’t willing to trust that this wasn’t part of some punishment. Maybe that was why, instead of letting her just yank him out from his no longer hidden spot (though she dragged him forward, alright) he brought his hands up to attempt to pry her fingers off. If he could break her grip, maybe he could buy himself a few more seconds. Of course, his efforts were hampered by his wound. Even if they hadn't been, the potter was no match for the queen.
amun
