WESSEX
Up until now, Wessex has had (or so she thinks) a decent amount of patience with Darkeye's endless line of questioning. She's trying to keep up, but it's too much when again, he asks six or seven things and then starts to tell her how this world is and more importantly, what she’s like. Any and all cultivated patience snaps. The lines of her mouth become harder, accompanying a flash of steel in her gaze as she swallows immediate retorts and lets him speak. When she finally does, she is deliberate. “Let me be very clear. This is my home. I grew up here. I continue to work to make it less of a barren ruin while anyone else who had any sort of influence left for greener, prettier pastures. But that’s beside the point. This has nothing to do with land and everything to do with religion. You’re not listening.”
After a moment’s pause, she takes a needless inhale and unclenches her jaw. “Now if you want to actually listen and learn something, and ask questions two or three at a time, we can start again. Otherwise -” she flicks her wrist off to the side, indicating that he’s free to leave if he doesn’t like those terms.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
