we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write
She chuckles on the inside, metal beak opening and closing in the closest approximation to human laughing this form can make. Wessex does as she’s bid for once, and is quickly hiding her shiny, dangerous wings and trading them for pale skin and a hand across her brow so she can better look at the scene she’s caused.
“There’s just no good way to haul a fuck ton of water across the Grounds, Greatwood, and Desert, you know?” Shrugging indifferently at the challenge and her solution, the Wraith turns to the Flood. “Thanks for the intervention. Whatcha doin’ out here?” Eyes flit from his face to the exotic surroundings, the people who have come out of hiding to see what the bird turned in to. Wessex offers a curt nod to one, but her attention is still on Sunjata.
“There’s just no good way to haul a fuck ton of water across the Grounds, Greatwood, and Desert, you know?” Shrugging indifferently at the challenge and her solution, the Wraith turns to the Flood. “Thanks for the intervention. Whatcha doin’ out here?” Eyes flit from his face to the exotic surroundings, the people who have come out of hiding to see what the bird turned in to. Wessex offers a curt nod to one, but her attention is still on Sunjata.
WESSEX
