W E S S E X
The unusual sound of laughter rings brightly through the cold, crisp air, quickly followed by a high pitched, playful screech. A black dragon the size of a small dog flits upwards from behind a barrow, nimble and lithe in its movements. Then it dives suddenly, and there’s a fine, glittering puff of white in the air as snow goes everywhere, and Wessex half-heartedly chides her companion.
“Loki! That’s not -” but she doesn’t get very far because she’s interrupted by a something - and the chirps of a very pleased-with-herself companion.
And if one were to go around the Barrow to find the Wraith and her soulmate, they would see the demigoddess on her knees, laughing to herself and scratching Loki’s eyeridges. “All right,” she murmurs. “We’ll make one of you too, yeah?” To match the more human-like Memory Snow sculpture they’ve already created.
“Loki! That’s not -” but she doesn’t get very far because she’s interrupted by a something - and the chirps of a very pleased-with-herself companion.
And if one were to go around the Barrow to find the Wraith and her soulmate, they would see the demigoddess on her knees, laughing to herself and scratching Loki’s eyeridges. “All right,” she murmurs. “We’ll make one of you too, yeah?” To match the more human-like Memory Snow sculpture they’ve already created.
The Wraith
