[se] how to keep myself from thinking

Delphine. Delphia. Clearly not related, (or so she assumes, based simply on physical appearance), the Wraith nevertheless finds it intriguing. She hums softly in the back of her throat, tossing that shovelful of snow up and away. Continuing the work while girl takes a break, Wessex tries not to be judgemental, considering that it seemed like she’d only just gotten here. Why volunteer to shovel snow if you don’t have the endurance? “I come and go,” she responds casually. “Haven’t been around since a couple of days before LongNight.” There was the cleanup, the Kraai, the election, and then everything else going on in her life. Hopefully Neron was alright- she hadn’t heard hide nor hair from him, so - good luck, dude. “Grounder born ‘n bred. And you -” pausing to take a real good look at the little blonde, she comes to a cautious, educated guess. “ - are an Outlander?” WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm