you wouldn't even recognize me anymore
not that you knew me back then
Whatever it was between him and Jigano, Wessex would never ask. Would never tell him her thoughts on the matter (and they were manifold, biting, vicious thoughts, the like he’d never seen from her before) because as she would tell him if he disapproved of a partner - it’s none of her damn business. It isn’t until Jigano’s an utter dick and he hurts Rory, or misrepresents him, or something to that effect. But until the bard missteps, she’ll make tiny barbed jokes and leave it at that.
His eyes are haunted; she’s used to that now. In a way.
She aches for the old Rory, for the wolf she saw in the sparks of the Festival of Lights. The Wraith holds his gaze for a moment, searching, and finds that in his eyes are all the reasons she needs to try and defeat the LongNight Monsters. Though nothing’s been decided yet and she would never parade him around like a spokesman for the horrors of that week, she can’t help but want to bring Sam here and force him to tell Rory that he won’t stop the nightmares, the darkness, the cold teeth that gnaw at his soul.
Because Karlia...
There’s no air in her lungs but she exhales anyway, a sound without motion. She can imagine the war raging inside him; without a body, without definitively knowing if someone were dead, let alone a beloved - “They’re getting stronger,” Wessex confesses, agreeing, understanding what he says.. “This last one was really bad.” She tries to catch his gaze again, should he lift his face to look at her. “But I’m so proud of you for holding out.” And Goddess, she hopes he’ll never have to hold out like this again. Softly praising Rory for his strength, she tries to banish all her sharpness and cold edges for a moment, she tries to become a safe, strong space for him, to lend him some of her own.
“And if I can, I’ll make sure that never happens again.” A whispered promise, full of the maternal and benevolent leader she might have been, if only she’d grown up differently. Wessex needs someone to save; Amalia’s gone, Melita’s gone, the Ground is in another’s hands, and Clem will end up at her sid. So that leaves Rory. For him, yes. She’d fight the demons the whole damn week for him.
His eyes are haunted; she’s used to that now. In a way.
She aches for the old Rory, for the wolf she saw in the sparks of the Festival of Lights. The Wraith holds his gaze for a moment, searching, and finds that in his eyes are all the reasons she needs to try and defeat the LongNight Monsters. Though nothing’s been decided yet and she would never parade him around like a spokesman for the horrors of that week, she can’t help but want to bring Sam here and force him to tell Rory that he won’t stop the nightmares, the darkness, the cold teeth that gnaw at his soul.
Because Karlia...
There’s no air in her lungs but she exhales anyway, a sound without motion. She can imagine the war raging inside him; without a body, without definitively knowing if someone were dead, let alone a beloved - “They’re getting stronger,” Wessex confesses, agreeing, understanding what he says.. “This last one was really bad.” She tries to catch his gaze again, should he lift his face to look at her. “But I’m so proud of you for holding out.” And Goddess, she hopes he’ll never have to hold out like this again. Softly praising Rory for his strength, she tries to banish all her sharpness and cold edges for a moment, she tries to become a safe, strong space for him, to lend him some of her own.
“And if I can, I’ll make sure that never happens again.” A whispered promise, full of the maternal and benevolent leader she might have been, if only she’d grown up differently. Wessex needs someone to save; Amalia’s gone, Melita’s gone, the Ground is in another’s hands, and Clem will end up at her sid. So that leaves Rory. For him, yes. She’d fight the demons the whole damn week for him.
but it all comes back to me in the end
WESSEX
