of all the beaches in Torchline

It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight

This isn’t the second time someone has mentioned a room to her, but no one has ever deigned to explain the whys and wheres of such an invention. So Wessex can only shrug in response. Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. She can neither confirm nor deny. “Well then, then give Ronin my best,” she offers, no hint of ill feelings toward the Temple fiasco in her tone. Honestly, she didn’t blame him.

Maybe the next portal they open will send them far enough away that they don’t ever have to see a Grounder again. With the briefest of gestures goodbye, Wessex turns to leave the alchemist to whatever he was doing before she came and bothered him.

{fin for W}