Weaver listens to the answer, noting how nothing of powers or skills that come with being a demi-god get included in that answer. Which is not to say Wessex is necessarily hiding that truth, but rather that it appears she values her role more. Maybe she is just a clever politician in this regard, and Weaver is aware of the possibility, but she doesn’t ask for more details. She had a feeling she’d run into Wessex again and learn more in time. For now, she ponders the idea of an Ascended family. Not because she doesn’t know this is a thing, on some very conceptual level, but because she has never really thought about it or heard someone talk about it. ”A race as a family. What an interesting concept. I take it you like it, though, given that you seem to work hard for them?” She assumes you do not get chosen as a demi-god by being useless, after all.
She laughs as Wessex admits to having been to Whitebrim already, stating that someone wanted to eat her friend. Weaver gives a half nod, with a look of ‘yep’ written all over her face. ”Well then you have seen the worst of Halo. The Fangs are deadlier, but vastly more fun.” She gives Wessex a grin at that, simply listening as the other woman says that magic can grow. Weaver is, of course, well aware. She just needed to do it, and she found herself itching for something that needed time to move much faster. Now that she cared about it, now that she had an opportunity to do something other than hunt and keep them alive, she felt like she needed to make up for all the time she had lost.
”Thank you,” she says as Wessex leaves the luxere at her door. Weaver sticks her head in the house, yelling for her brother with every intention of making him help her with the carcass, but then turns her attention back as Wessex asks another question. Ah, The Voice. The Ascended loved their goddess, it seemed. Samuel had defended his goddess earnestly (not that Weaver had attacked, but had been ambivalent). And now Wessex, curious. ”I don’t care about the old gods because they don’t care about me. Tell me, is your goddess any different?” She pauses for a moment, knowing she was blunt but willing to make the point. ”Though I suppose that’s a very Abandoned view. As for Halovians in general,” she shrugs as she continues, ”you will see the old gods here mostly, but that doesn’t mean anyone dislikes the new ones. We’ve just been a little stuck in the past here.”
She laughs as Wessex admits to having been to Whitebrim already, stating that someone wanted to eat her friend. Weaver gives a half nod, with a look of ‘yep’ written all over her face. ”Well then you have seen the worst of Halo. The Fangs are deadlier, but vastly more fun.” She gives Wessex a grin at that, simply listening as the other woman says that magic can grow. Weaver is, of course, well aware. She just needed to do it, and she found herself itching for something that needed time to move much faster. Now that she cared about it, now that she had an opportunity to do something other than hunt and keep them alive, she felt like she needed to make up for all the time she had lost.
”Thank you,” she says as Wessex leaves the luxere at her door. Weaver sticks her head in the house, yelling for her brother with every intention of making him help her with the carcass, but then turns her attention back as Wessex asks another question. Ah, The Voice. The Ascended loved their goddess, it seemed. Samuel had defended his goddess earnestly (not that Weaver had attacked, but had been ambivalent). And now Wessex, curious. ”I don’t care about the old gods because they don’t care about me. Tell me, is your goddess any different?” She pauses for a moment, knowing she was blunt but willing to make the point. ”Though I suppose that’s a very Abandoned view. As for Halovians in general,” she shrugs as she continues, ”you will see the old gods here mostly, but that doesn’t mean anyone dislikes the new ones. We’ve just been a little stuck in the past here.”
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
