[ME] Reap what you have sown

Yes, yes - Delah’s disdain for Wessex. How tiresomely predictable and boring. On the way over here, the Queen of the Hallowed Grounds wondered if she could map out the conversation ahead of time - or at least the components. Grab an as-yet-unheard-of BINGO sheet and mark down the elements as they come. Disdainful lip curl? Check. Predatory snarl? Check. At least the Wraith had the good sense to partially listen to Amun, and as the War Chief raises herself to the Ascended’s eyeline, she muses silently to him. ‘And you think I’m wound up tight?’ But of course, this isn’t a laughing matter. And Wessex isn’t laughing. She isn’t smiling either. Not as the ‘charges’ ring out and there is indeed, a smidgen of regret for the Fae deaths. It should have been easier. If Lucas hadn’t off'ed himself. If Sam had balls and hadn’t done stupid, useless attacks. If Amun hadn’t run away. If, if, if. Deep blue eyes match moss green ones and Wessex’s eyebrows raise every so slightly. As far as she's concerned this isn’t a trial. “I don’t. One was killed in self-defense, after attacking me with fire. The other deaths weren’t by our hands. In fact, I offered them an opportunity to de-escalate the situation and talk. Instead they attacked. I am sorry for their deaths, but they were needless casualties.” WESSEX come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts unsex me here