you wouldn't even recognize me anymore
not that you knew me back then
The demi-god marks Melita’s concessions and fills them with tiny little buckets of hope. She drowns the nods in imagined signs of peace, only to kick them over by putting her own foot in her mouth. Is that what she’s saying? Perhaps, to some extent. But also, not. No. On the other hand, if the Temple had fallen, she would have been blamed (wasn’t it on Loren’s tongue - didn’t he say it was all her fault?) Yet she can’t collect on keeping the kids safe. Or the rest of Naturals, conveniently forgotten, her original people traded for the neediest, most rash and ambitious and utterly ridiculous. “No, of course not. But the groups in the Temple and the Guild were a small portion of the people I was responsible for. A vocal minority. I planned, delegated, and followed up, kept a place safe. You’re right, the community stepped up, did the majority of saving. The guildhall also opened the doors constantly, which made the saving necessary.” She sighs, remembering the contradiction and war between her need for control, particularly in this instance, and knowing that it was necessary to let the week play out as it would - even if it meant death.
“And like I said, when I fucked up, I listened to what you wanted and stepped down, without any fuss or retaliation. Greatwood access is back. It was gone for, what - three weeks?” They rail against captivity, against the woods being closed but how brief was it, against her lifetime in a cage? Wessex quiets, turning back to the bookcase as the light dips away from her face. There are implications in what Melita says, and it hits the very core of her motto, that people don’t listen. They weren’t listening at the meeting, unless they disagree about the sovereignty of the Grounds. “Should I have let Delah dictate what happens here?” The war-chief may have given the ultimatum, but the Grounders made the choice - and that, the ex-Queen can live with.
Even if there’s this bizarre Fae idolization going on, with the Grounders acting like the Fae were inherently better than them. If only they knew what kind of people they were, the violence they’ve historically wrought upon themselves? “Yes, I left. Given recent interactions I felt it’d be the safest way to avoid the back and forth that happened with Zariah. I did my best not to make it about me and what I did, other than give you the facts. It was about you all deciding what you want to do, without my influence. And I didn’t trust it to not devolve.” Either by her hand, or by others.
What they’re really upset about, she imagines, is that she didn’t give the crowd an opportunity for catharsis; she didn’t let them yell and scream and lead with accusatons, paint her as an inhuman monster, or bombard her with so many questions and what-ifs that it derails the conversation. Wessex took the power with her by leaving. She left them emotionally empty handed. “What would you have asked?” she wonders into the darkness, as a title catches her eye and she slips it on top of the book she’s already pulled. She is genuinely curious about what Melita would have asked - was it based in clarification or condemnation? Phrased like her ‘question’ that was no more question than the Ascended herself a devotee of the Old Gods.
“If you say so. I heard an attack. In the language. What you’ve done to us.” Tasting the words as they roll through her mouth, she can only find acid and spite and anger. Well-deserved, in some instances. And maybe this is why Wessex is the demi-god and not any of the other Ascended. Because she’s shouldering the blame, giving the others free reign and good will and the opportunity to continue to lead and paint and be a kid. What she’s done? She’s opening the world. And sometimes things get messy. Sometimes there are casualties. Sometimes it doesn’t go according to plan.
It makes her want to scream - at everyone and no one in particular. f they're so against portals they don't have to use them. Stay back. Live in the Grounds. Never travel. If the Voice is so bad then stop using her technology.
If Melita really wants to understand, it seems like there are better questions to ask. “You’ve experienced more than that with me. I’m sorry if they don’t outweigh the bad. I hope you can believe that I would never try to hurt you.” It’s the same thing she’s said to Amalia - to the family of strong women she's always wanted to have.
Even if they don’t believe her.
“And like I said, when I fucked up, I listened to what you wanted and stepped down, without any fuss or retaliation. Greatwood access is back. It was gone for, what - three weeks?” They rail against captivity, against the woods being closed but how brief was it, against her lifetime in a cage? Wessex quiets, turning back to the bookcase as the light dips away from her face. There are implications in what Melita says, and it hits the very core of her motto, that people don’t listen. They weren’t listening at the meeting, unless they disagree about the sovereignty of the Grounds. “Should I have let Delah dictate what happens here?” The war-chief may have given the ultimatum, but the Grounders made the choice - and that, the ex-Queen can live with.
Even if there’s this bizarre Fae idolization going on, with the Grounders acting like the Fae were inherently better than them. If only they knew what kind of people they were, the violence they’ve historically wrought upon themselves? “Yes, I left. Given recent interactions I felt it’d be the safest way to avoid the back and forth that happened with Zariah. I did my best not to make it about me and what I did, other than give you the facts. It was about you all deciding what you want to do, without my influence. And I didn’t trust it to not devolve.” Either by her hand, or by others.
What they’re really upset about, she imagines, is that she didn’t give the crowd an opportunity for catharsis; she didn’t let them yell and scream and lead with accusatons, paint her as an inhuman monster, or bombard her with so many questions and what-ifs that it derails the conversation. Wessex took the power with her by leaving. She left them emotionally empty handed. “What would you have asked?” she wonders into the darkness, as a title catches her eye and she slips it on top of the book she’s already pulled. She is genuinely curious about what Melita would have asked - was it based in clarification or condemnation? Phrased like her ‘question’ that was no more question than the Ascended herself a devotee of the Old Gods.
“If you say so. I heard an attack. In the language. What you’ve done to us.” Tasting the words as they roll through her mouth, she can only find acid and spite and anger. Well-deserved, in some instances. And maybe this is why Wessex is the demi-god and not any of the other Ascended. Because she’s shouldering the blame, giving the others free reign and good will and the opportunity to continue to lead and paint and be a kid. What she’s done? She’s opening the world. And sometimes things get messy. Sometimes there are casualties. Sometimes it doesn’t go according to plan.
It makes her want to scream - at everyone and no one in particular. f they're so against portals they don't have to use them. Stay back. Live in the Grounds. Never travel. If the Voice is so bad then stop using her technology.
If Melita really wants to understand, it seems like there are better questions to ask. “You’ve experienced more than that with me. I’m sorry if they don’t outweigh the bad. I hope you can believe that I would never try to hurt you.” It’s the same thing she’s said to Amalia - to the family of strong women she's always wanted to have.
Even if they don’t believe her.
but it all comes back to me in the end
WESSEX
