we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write
The Voice soothes her; something about her Lady’s greeting and gentle touch is a balm to her demigod’s body and soul. And if it were possible for her blush under the praise she probably would - but has to settle for a smile and a chuckle instead. Wessex knows she has leagues to go before she could ever compare to the Goddess, but hearing the comparison does her confidence wonders. “Thank you,” she murmurs, letting her thoughts linger on the events. “I suppose that even though we lost the Relic, we learned a lot about them, too. Remi is all about brute force. Ronin can… explode. And I can only assume they have the Relic from the Peepholes. Noah turned into the snake… thing we encountered down there.”
Shaking her head, Wessex purses her lips and tries to let it go. At least two down, and she’d be an idiot to think they might not have more. “But we are far more ingenious. That’s obvious.” The question would likely be how long they had to be clever before they took too much damage. More guerilla tactics might be the name of the game come actual war time. “How are you?” she asks gently, turning ice-blue eyes to electric ones.
Shaking her head, Wessex purses her lips and tries to let it go. At least two down, and she’d be an idiot to think they might not have more. “But we are far more ingenious. That’s obvious.” The question would likely be how long they had to be clever before they took too much damage. More guerilla tactics might be the name of the game come actual war time. “How are you?” she asks gently, turning ice-blue eyes to electric ones.
WESSEX
