WESSEX
Ah, she’s hit the nail on the head - it’s the weak part of Maea that Wessex dislikes, nay, finds it almost criminal that she’s survived when people like Rishima and Magrethe and her own mother have died. It’s a baseless grudge, locked in something similar to ‘survival of the fittest,’ but no one ever said people were rational all the time. Wessex is like… 90% rational, 10% not. If one were to guess. As for abandoned - oh, that doesn’t matter at all. It never has. Abandoned and Ascended ought to stick together, in her humble opinion. Maea’s next words, however, do earn a bit of a chuckle from Wessex and she begins to soften from Ice Queen to just plain old frosty bitch. “Hardly wise. Brash and bold. Smart. But wise is… not something many would call me.” Though the honorific is welcome. She looks down at her hands, her fingernails, and then at the empty area around her again. “You two are kind. Thank you.” And then an idea springs to mind, and she moves as if on an inhale (though we all know she isn’t actually inhaling). “Have you heard about the Fae’s Capture the Sun tradition yet?”
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
