into the frying pan

WESSEX after all is said and done you're just a carnivore let you in and drink my blood you're nothing but a monster “Jigano is like Zariah... They both think they’re the smartest person in the room.” Full of hubris. They underestimate, and for all that the bard may ‘know’ about things, he has a fixed point of view and a large blind spot. He thinks everyone thinks the way he does and can’t fathom those who don’t. He’s part of the group that assumes and assumes and assumes and doesn’t ask the one person who might be able to clear a lot of things up. So they’re predictable, to a degree. Which means the unpredictable and the accumulation of secret skills can beat them. It’s something, along with manipulating the Fae, to think on for the future.   Wessex’s gaze narrows and goes blank, turning inward to her systems which run and whirl and come back with something new. Beyond the ability to replicate magic, she can - oh. Her eyes widen. “Wraith, indeed, Lady,” she whispers in awe, seeking her Goddess’s gaze again. If she were able to blush, she might, and were she anyone else, she might cover her mouth in awe. There is wonder in her tone and gratitude in her eyes, yes - but also an awakening. Which brings her to her final question - a short one - if the Goddess will stay just a little longer with her.