It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
“What was I going to do, let you get mauled? Leave you in the Climb?” Scoffing, Wessex presses her hands gently around Aurelia’s, trying to temper without overwhelming. “As far as I know you don’t deserve that - do you?” There’s a bit of a mischievous glint in her pale blue eyes as she asks the Torcher, raising a brow ever so subtly. Is she teasing? Flirting? Lightening up the situation?
After a minute or two, the Wraith removes her hands and instructs Aurelia, “Breathe on them now, keep your finger joints moving.” And of course, that’s what the whiskey is for - to bear the tingles and the sharp pricks of flesh coming back to life. There’s no blackening or pale death to the woman’s skin, so she’ll be quite alright. It just isn’t… fun.
“Yep, but maybe not the way your home world thinks of one. I was voted in, not appointed by the Gods or born into it.” She takes a sip of her own glass, letting it sit in her mouth until she can feel the faintest nip of alcohol’s bite, the ghosts of a flavor she once loved. “Gods, you really don’t know who I am, do you?” It’s more incredulous than accusatory, and the Wraith ends up smiling at the thought of still being able to be anonymous.
After a minute or two, the Wraith removes her hands and instructs Aurelia, “Breathe on them now, keep your finger joints moving.” And of course, that’s what the whiskey is for - to bear the tingles and the sharp pricks of flesh coming back to life. There’s no blackening or pale death to the woman’s skin, so she’ll be quite alright. It just isn’t… fun.
“Yep, but maybe not the way your home world thinks of one. I was voted in, not appointed by the Gods or born into it.” She takes a sip of her own glass, letting it sit in her mouth until she can feel the faintest nip of alcohol’s bite, the ghosts of a flavor she once loved. “Gods, you really don’t know who I am, do you?” It’s more incredulous than accusatory, and the Wraith ends up smiling at the thought of still being able to be anonymous.
