I write sins, not tragedies
“Yeah?” This time far more pleasantly surprised, Wessex grins up at them, bright and slightly devious. “Then watch this.” With all the delight of a teenager displaying a new trick, she picks a smaller gourd that’s had some difficulty hopping up a stair and turns her Angry Eyes onto it.
Let’s not get into the semantics of the science of how a pumpkin can explode, let’s just say that she’s able to superheat it and the pressure builds up and it explodes, sending seeds and goo into a small radius. None of them, fortunately, but there is a larger one that’s managed to make a fair amount of progress up the steps. Wessex scoots to one side to allow Cam room to pass if they want to, before targeting another small, pale yellow squash.
“Did you come from a world that had the word cy-borg?” she asks, suddenly, remembering the last time she’d employed her lasers and who it had been with.
Let’s not get into the semantics of the science of how a pumpkin can explode, let’s just say that she’s able to superheat it and the pressure builds up and it explodes, sending seeds and goo into a small radius. None of them, fortunately, but there is a larger one that’s managed to make a fair amount of progress up the steps. Wessex scoots to one side to allow Cam room to pass if they want to, before targeting another small, pale yellow squash.
“Did you come from a world that had the word cy-borg?” she asks, suddenly, remembering the last time she’d employed her lasers and who it had been with.
WESSEX
