I write sins, not tragedies
“Deimos?” She’s making a face that Sam can’t see, “Fuck if I know.” Seems like the Gods might have done it already if they were going to, but Wessex knows jack shit about their strategy or inclinations.
Releasing her stress-hold on the wheelbarrow, the demigod straightens and wipes her hands off, turning to face Sam with a nod of thanks for holding the door open. “It’s more of a ‘you can’t come here,’ kind of thing. So if worse comes to worse, we can retreat here-ish. Ronin won’t be able to come in. Others who might be looking for intel. Or that’s the working theory.” Shrugging a bit, Wessex’s head falls slightly at the other inquiry.
“Not sure about getting someone on the inside, though. If it’s even possible without detection…?” Unwilling to divulge any information about Henry’s offer, Wessex can only waver in person, fully aware that she hasn’t any clue about what the potential risks would be other than death - and things worse than death. The risk of such an idea looms heavy and ominous in an already laden mind.
Releasing her stress-hold on the wheelbarrow, the demigod straightens and wipes her hands off, turning to face Sam with a nod of thanks for holding the door open. “It’s more of a ‘you can’t come here,’ kind of thing. So if worse comes to worse, we can retreat here-ish. Ronin won’t be able to come in. Others who might be looking for intel. Or that’s the working theory.” Shrugging a bit, Wessex’s head falls slightly at the other inquiry.
“Not sure about getting someone on the inside, though. If it’s even possible without detection…?” Unwilling to divulge any information about Henry’s offer, Wessex can only waver in person, fully aware that she hasn’t any clue about what the potential risks would be other than death - and things worse than death. The risk of such an idea looms heavy and ominous in an already laden mind.
WESSEX
