I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
Wessex laughs to herself a quiet sound that is absorbed here, even in the sharp edges of the glittering walls. It’s a private sound, the kind meant more to chide one’s self for follies instead of inviting others to find something amusing. Then again, maybe she is amusing in some way. Some ironic, fucked-up way. Staring at the different, brilliant colors, the demigod marvels for a moment before trying to find something suitable (though for whom, she can’t quite say). There’s no one in mind for this gift.
Not yet.
(Not ever)
Loki, at least, has found some amusement with the glittering facades; she likes the way they twinkle back at her, she likes the light they cast here. So does her soulmate, actually. And as Wessex takes a long chisel to a dark blue sapphire (almost black, she’d originally thought it something else), she’s almost sad to remove it.
Not yet.
(Not ever)
Loki, at least, has found some amusement with the glittering facades; she likes the way they twinkle back at her, she likes the light they cast here. So does her soulmate, actually. And as Wessex takes a long chisel to a dark blue sapphire (almost black, she’d originally thought it something else), she’s almost sad to remove it.
WESSEX
