WESSEX
the wraith
What can Wessex do but try and do one of the few things she just isn’t good at? There’s no way to mitigate Bastien’s pain, so the older woman simply nods and tries to look like she understands - which she does, wholeheartedly, but words of comfort simply sound hollow in her head. “You don’t have to go it alone,” she finally says, feeling like its apt for both situations he mentions - grieving and raising the child. It’s what a family is for. “We can help.” There’s no poetry from the Wraith, but then there rarely is, simple truths an actions are preferable. And while she wasn’t waiting for his permission to say goodbye or even felt like she needed it, her focus shifts more to the body and her head falls closer to her chest.
It isn’t self-pity, exactly, which floods her but a sense of failure at the way she’d died. If it had been monsters, it might be easier to swallow. But that she’d died at the hands of Safrin sends the matriarch into a guilt spiral because that’s exactly the kind of thing she’s supposed to protect against. “I warned her, you know,” she says sadly as she approaches the bed. “I thought the door wasn’t all it appeared and if I’d been here, I could have teleported -”
Saved them both. But pride and anger got in the way. And now - this.
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
