Comfortably Numb

Demi-god? Wessex’s brow furrows a bit at the word, if only for it’s implications - and particularly because she knows that the Old Gods are not and never will be friends towards her again. That makes Ronin a potential weapon. A vessel for Safrin’s doing, though he does seem to have a good head on his shoulders and they haven’t encountered anything that might cause a schism between the two warrior-types. “Interesting. If it’s true.” She pauses and gives him a long look, something in between careful character consideration and weighing whether or not she should speak. “You know you would be the first, right? The Old Gods took a very hands off approach with us, despite our prayers and requests for help. So… why you?” The Natural manages to keep her tone quite neutral up through now, trying to phrase it as nothing more than a general question. But something fails, falls short in its task to keep her civil, and she can’t keep the acidic barbs from the edge of her tongue. “I can’t be the first to ask: but what the fuck do the Outlanders have the pleases the Gods so much?” She can’t even blame it on the a-a-a-alcohol, baby. It’s just frustrations that have been bubbling up ever since that Outlander dude won Ludo’s gift during the Festival of Lights. A line was drawn for Wessex; she can’t simply erase it just because The Voice is free and they’re all rid of the barrier. But her family died, despite their lifelong piety. Why should Ronin get to come back, and they don't? WESSEX come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts unsex me here