WESSEX
There is nothing to do but acquiesce, flow with the maelstrom of emotions and hope that maybe she can catch Mabel sometime when she whirls by.
Wessex follows her into the house, trying not to take note of whether or not it’s a fit place for a girl to live. On her own. Her hands fall to clasp in front of her as she waits for the cue to speak - a piece of charcoal in hand - and then reveals the few things she knows. “A man, older, tall, and with dark hair. It happened in the Temple.”
The Wraith has mulled it over enough to have her suspicions, the most telling is that the life-long Grounder didn’t know her attacker. Which tells her that the man isn’t from here. The Temple is another peculiar thing, but she hasn’t quite cracked that mystery yet. Maybe when there aren’t a thousand other things flying around her head.
One of which includes Mabel. No more than a murmur, the Wraith stands awkwardly as she continues on, having given a pause after her description so as not to seem to pushy. Even though she is (but it has to be said). “Mabel, if this house is ever falling apart over your head, or has too many memories, there’s room at my place. Or we can find you a place in the Settlement. There are… options.”
None of which are death.
Because you are not alone.
But she can’t say those things, can she? Because the Wraith remembers the loneliness. Remembers wanting to crawl into a hole after her family died. Remembers how haunted her house was and how she couldn't bring herself to leave it. All Wessex can say is this: “I’m here if you need anything.”
Wessex follows her into the house, trying not to take note of whether or not it’s a fit place for a girl to live. On her own. Her hands fall to clasp in front of her as she waits for the cue to speak - a piece of charcoal in hand - and then reveals the few things she knows. “A man, older, tall, and with dark hair. It happened in the Temple.”
The Wraith has mulled it over enough to have her suspicions, the most telling is that the life-long Grounder didn’t know her attacker. Which tells her that the man isn’t from here. The Temple is another peculiar thing, but she hasn’t quite cracked that mystery yet. Maybe when there aren’t a thousand other things flying around her head.
One of which includes Mabel. No more than a murmur, the Wraith stands awkwardly as she continues on, having given a pause after her description so as not to seem to pushy. Even though she is (but it has to be said). “Mabel, if this house is ever falling apart over your head, or has too many memories, there’s room at my place. Or we can find you a place in the Settlement. There are… options.”
None of which are death.
Because you are not alone.
But she can’t say those things, can she? Because the Wraith remembers the loneliness. Remembers wanting to crawl into a hole after her family died. Remembers how haunted her house was and how she couldn't bring herself to leave it. All Wessex can say is this: “I’m here if you need anything.”
there was a time that we were kind, but now
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
