WESSEX
the wraith
“We’ve come so far,” she murmurs, glancing at the girl through lowered lids. If anyone had asked them two years ago where they might be, neither would have been able to picture Shields and queenships and demi-gods and talking to Vi.It’s miraculous, really. They are living miracles - look at the rest of their people, the way they hunker down and stick to their beliefs. So few are able to rise to the occasion and make themselves more than Grounders. That’s not to say that they need to be more than farmers and craftsmen, but with the opening of the world, why wouldn’t they want to be?
Anyway. On Amalia’s instruction, Wessex begins to focus on the little black bundle, trying to hone in on the thoughts and ask her, mentally. What eventually comes to the Wraith is more of a general sound, lo… “Lo… lo… lor… no.” Making a weird ‘focusing’ face, she tries again. “low… kay? Low… key? Loki?” The dragonling trills a confirmation, a burst of elation traveling through their bond.
“Loki!” What an odd name. But it’s hers, so Wessex likes it.
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
