WESSEX
the wraith
she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
Gods, no, Wessex hasn’t fucked anyone in years. Biting is all the action she gets these days, and it’s a miniscule consolation compared to her memories of her pre-Ascended days. She was demanding back then. Picky, too. It was usually 50/50 whether or not a fight would turn into something else - hard and fast and hungry, leaving bruises and exhaustion in its wake.
Her mind is back there, on naked, human bodies and how hers is so different now, and she might have blushed a bit if she could, realizing that she is just a tad unsure about how to proceed. Trying to tuck that hesitancy away, she grabs uselessly at some strands that ought to be behind her ear and smoothes them down before following the Flood inside with a nod of acknowledgement.
There’s nothing at first, as she looks around the house and finds it strangely lonely. There are signs that someone once lived here - a pair of cups left behind, a wardrobe that’s ajar, a rug on the floor. And as the Wraith ventures further into the space, she’s finds that something intensifies as she gets closer to a second room. “So it’s an actual room,” she says with a laugh-sigh, and pauses for a moment at the threshold, closing her eyes for a momentto just feel the warmth in her belly and that stirring between her thighs. She can’t physically get wet, but there’s a sense of yearning and needing that hasn’t been there in so long.
“Godsdamn I'd forgotten what that feels like.” she murmurs with a grin, leaning against the doorframe and lolling her head back to look at Frey’s chosen - who, with his thick eyebrows and sadboy eyes, is becoming unusually attractive. Like she wants to drown in them. “I think you won the God contest. And I think I’m jealous.”
Her mind is back there, on naked, human bodies and how hers is so different now, and she might have blushed a bit if she could, realizing that she is just a tad unsure about how to proceed. Trying to tuck that hesitancy away, she grabs uselessly at some strands that ought to be behind her ear and smoothes them down before following the Flood inside with a nod of acknowledgement.
There’s nothing at first, as she looks around the house and finds it strangely lonely. There are signs that someone once lived here - a pair of cups left behind, a wardrobe that’s ajar, a rug on the floor. And as the Wraith ventures further into the space, she’s finds that something intensifies as she gets closer to a second room. “So it’s an actual room,” she says with a laugh-sigh, and pauses for a moment at the threshold, closing her eyes for a momentto just feel the warmth in her belly and that stirring between her thighs. She can’t physically get wet, but there’s a sense of yearning and needing that hasn’t been there in so long.
“Godsdamn I'd forgotten what that feels like.” she murmurs with a grin, leaning against the doorframe and lolling her head back to look at Frey’s chosen - who, with his thick eyebrows and sadboy eyes, is becoming unusually attractive. Like she wants to drown in them. “I think you won the God contest. And I think I’m jealous.”
and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah
the hallelujah
