Go
deep throat
a cactus
She has her answer, or at least part of it; for now, it’s enough that they both think the Grounders (and Sam) were utter fools.
Grimacing a bit at what Ronin describes, Wessex can imagine how she might feel if Magrethe came for her, bitter and accusatory and sweet and charming. A week of that would be excruciating. And yet he took it on willingly. “You knew it would be like this, right?” she asks, hoping he might have done something to try and prepare against the psychological warfare. Exactly how he might have done that is unknown, but - something, surely.
“Come, sit.” She takes the lead (because he looks like shit and it might be easier to just do as he's told) and bids him conserve his energy, Wessex scoots a bit into the circles of light, offering him either someone to focus on or something to lean against, moving herself wherever necessary. “Do you want to talk? Or sleep? I can keep watch.”
Grimacing a bit at what Ronin describes, Wessex can imagine how she might feel if Magrethe came for her, bitter and accusatory and sweet and charming. A week of that would be excruciating. And yet he took it on willingly. “You knew it would be like this, right?” she asks, hoping he might have done something to try and prepare against the psychological warfare. Exactly how he might have done that is unknown, but - something, surely.
“Come, sit.” She takes the lead (because he looks like shit and it might be easier to just do as he's told) and bids him conserve his energy, Wessex scoots a bit into the circles of light, offering him either someone to focus on or something to lean against, moving herself wherever necessary. “Do you want to talk? Or sleep? I can keep watch.”
