these violent delights have violent ends
Her work was never done, which was precisely how she liked it. Why she was in charge.
Why her people were safe.
With a snarl upon her lips and a strangely golden-tinge to her moss-green eyes, the warrior of the fae approached the mouth of the pit where Wessex had been placed nearly half a day before. Given that it was daylight, Delah did not expect to see her simply loitering at the bottom. It was why the warriors around her carried a massive net-like device made of woven leaves, which they raised up and behind Delah, casting a significant shadow into the pit.
If Wessex to burn, it would be at Delah's hand, not the sun's.
"Trespasser." She called into the pit, voice rich and strong despite her diminutive size.
Why her people were safe.
With a snarl upon her lips and a strangely golden-tinge to her moss-green eyes, the warrior of the fae approached the mouth of the pit where Wessex had been placed nearly half a day before. Given that it was daylight, Delah did not expect to see her simply loitering at the bottom. It was why the warriors around her carried a massive net-like device made of woven leaves, which they raised up and behind Delah, casting a significant shadow into the pit.
If Wessex to burn, it would be at Delah's hand, not the sun's.
"Trespasser." She called into the pit, voice rich and strong despite her diminutive size.
