WESSEX
“Yes,” she concedes, admitting that there never seemed to be enough hours of darkness and semi-darkness. That LongNight posed a particular fear for her and she spent days planning and preparing and making sure the people in the Outskirts had what they needed. Oh, they were self-sufficient, but an extra hand, a haunch of smoked venison, a bag of nails - she was making sure everyone was safe and smart. And they’d lost very few this year, which the former Queen counted as a victory, even if no one else did. They may have lost buildings, eyes, and whatever else, but four was the smallest number she could remember in a long time. “But you also make time for the things that’re important, and you’re important to me, Melita.” Again, she tries to find the girl’s gaze. Wants her to see the earnestness, the unabashed truth in her words, even if Wessex can’t seem to make her face do what she wants. “I wouldn’t have gone after you if you weren’t.” She makes a sound in the back of her throat, something like a scoff, but not quite as harsh. “Do you think I let just anyone throw rocks at me?”
The question could be written off as a joke, but the isn’t one, it calls on what the redheaded Outlander knows about Wessex and demands it be reconciled against reality, not emotions. The Wraith could have done any number of things other than stay and fight to bring Melita back to the real world. But she didn’t. She stayed, and she endured, and she fucking cared.
“So no, I don’t have to. But I want to.” A brief, awkward pause. “Teach you again.” If Melita would have her.
As for her search, well, she dodges the inquiry for a moment, in favor of resolving this. First things first.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
