Go
deep throat
a cactus
Well hot damn, that might be the first out-loud compliment she’s heard in months. It’s startling, especially given their current situation, and that fact is clearly writ on the Wraith’s face. “Thank you… ?” Wessex replies trying to understand why and how this encounter has turned so strangely in her grasp. This means that she more or less ignores Abasi’s question, though it isn’t on purpose, his words (yeah, it might be a bad idea but she’s in the habit of pressing the fuck it button) of sensible caution lost to the silence of the border.
There’s no blood to rush from her cheeks, no way to make her skin whiter, but the energy around Wessex noticeably changes. She fades from somewhat angry to something far more somber. Sad, almost. As if she’ll always be in mourning for the person the stranger describes. And when the whole thing is finally finished, she looks at Delphia through hooded eyes. She grants a single, decisive nod. Despite Ludo’s ill intentions, she has no ill will towards any of the Gods but Safrin. This daughter of Mort is… perhaps still a little dim, but mostly alright. “You may cross freely...” Wessex declares quietly, before extending her hand in a gesture that seems to indicate she’s asking for the girl’s name. Which she is.
There’s no blood to rush from her cheeks, no way to make her skin whiter, but the energy around Wessex noticeably changes. She fades from somewhat angry to something far more somber. Sad, almost. As if she’ll always be in mourning for the person the stranger describes. And when the whole thing is finally finished, she looks at Delphia through hooded eyes. She grants a single, decisive nod. Despite Ludo’s ill intentions, she has no ill will towards any of the Gods but Safrin. This daughter of Mort is… perhaps still a little dim, but mostly alright. “You may cross freely...” Wessex declares quietly, before extending her hand in a gesture that seems to indicate she’s asking for the girl’s name. Which she is.
