I write sins, not tragedies
Her work slows but does not stop, as Wessex continues to try and tie everything all together. It would be a collapsible kind of lantern, unsteady but with good bones (ha), holding its shape from the top. Leafchange does seem to sneak up on her every year, and every year, she’s forced to add to to the mental in memoriam she has running through her head. The demigod keeps an accounting of their family in her head and now with Sam gone, that history book would likely never get made. The thought evokes a soft sigh, as she turns a glance towards her palest sister.
“Well, that issue is more or less resolved, so you’re not breaking any promise. Long walk, though.” There’s a slight arch of her brow to accompany the arch in her voice. Even with the portal to the Climb, it’s hardly the hopping vacation spot that Torchline or Kings End might be.
“I thought I’d give the Old Gods a good ‘ol harmless fuck you by memorializing our family at their altar. The mess -” she gestures aimlessly to the scattered remains - clearly, none of them are Ascended. “- is a bonus.”
“Well, that issue is more or less resolved, so you’re not breaking any promise. Long walk, though.” There’s a slight arch of her brow to accompany the arch in her voice. Even with the portal to the Climb, it’s hardly the hopping vacation spot that Torchline or Kings End might be.
“I thought I’d give the Old Gods a good ‘ol harmless fuck you by memorializing our family at their altar. The mess -” she gestures aimlessly to the scattered remains - clearly, none of them are Ascended. “- is a bonus.”
WESSEX
