[Training] The night is dark and full of terrors

Wessex’s face splits into an ironic shit-eating grin when Roana’s face passes through the ring of torches. She smelled the woman as she approached, but wondered whether or not the woman would be up for the challenge - after all, she’d come out with the short end of the stick - stickless, rather - last time they met. It’s safe to say that Wessex has changed a little bit since then; enough to know they’ll have to work together to get shit done, but not enough to even remotely regret stealing the sword. She picks the blade up from where she’s stuck it in the frozen ground, tossing it in the air and catching it with that same hand. An appreciative eye runs up and down the blade as she pets it with her other hand, feeling the smooth, smooth metal under her skin. It’s something akin to sex and a hot meal in the middle of Deepfrost and the singing of endorphins in her once-mortal body, as she feels the mastery and the magic that went into making the blade. Somehow, she knows there is magic in it. Somehow. Her body can sense it. Blue eyes look up from her ministrations, ever so slightly devious. Wessex isn’t one for words and banter - but Roana already knew this - so after a moment of consideration, the Ascendant says simply “Let’s make a bet, then. If I win, I get something I want. If you win, you get something you want. Yes?”  Might makes right. She’ll force the foreigner to prove her worth.   WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm