W E S S E X
“Mabel is a quick study with a knife,” Wessex agrees, her smile curving into a proud, sly grin at the mention of their sister. “Though I haven’t seen her around lately - have you?” And that thought quickly sends her mind on another path, slyness turning quickly into thoughtfulness, and then concern. Last time Mabel had gone missing, the girl had died - through no fault of either her or the Wraith’s - but Wessex has always taken her role as protector seriously and the names of the lost and forgotten always sear guilt into the tip of her tongue.
It’s something she needs to look in to come Flowerbirth. For now - there is Ophelia and their request and the General can never turn down a request for this kind of tutelage.
“I’d love to.” Turning to a nearby line of weapons, she gestures broadly to them and asks, “what speaks to you the most? Bow and Arrow, knife, sword, spear, axe, staff… your own hands? There might even be some throwing stars or a whip orrr… a mace back at the Barracks if that sounds more up your alley.” They had the world before them. They need only choose.
It’s something she needs to look in to come Flowerbirth. For now - there is Ophelia and their request and the General can never turn down a request for this kind of tutelage.
“I’d love to.” Turning to a nearby line of weapons, she gestures broadly to them and asks, “what speaks to you the most? Bow and Arrow, knife, sword, spear, axe, staff… your own hands? There might even be some throwing stars or a whip orrr… a mace back at the Barracks if that sounds more up your alley.” They had the world before them. They need only choose.
The Wraith
