It wants… to be reborn?
What kind of strange hell has she landed in? Gods, Amalia and Rory will never believe what’s happened here - if they come back alive - it’s all so, so much more than they’ve ever encountered. This is not something that happens. You prepare for the LongNight, you hope people aren’t stupid, you drug your babies, and you make the rounds when it’s all said and done. There are tears and weeping every year. There are stories of what people heartd but never dared to watch.
Yet there has never been this. A negotiation, a conversation, an… an experience of monster sentience. Sure, they have all the power, but every minute that Wessex is alive is an extraordinary, inexplicable minute. It defies everything they know. Every minute turns their lives on end, and if she can only live to tell the tale…
Wessex may very well have a confused look on her face, but she manages to keep from verbally responding to this very bizarre turn of events. Apparently she takes to long, for the petulant rage begins again, the house shakes and threatens to rise up or to fold in on itself, or perhaps both at once. The Reborn will Ask. THE REBORN WILL ASK. She knows now it is not a question, it is an order. Her hands fly out as if to calm a raging beast, and she vigorously nods her assent to the demand, pairing it with, “Yes, yes, I will. I will ask for you.” Again, her gaze sweeps across the invisible entity, almost searching for something to focus on, to latch on to.
“... Now? You want me to go now, right?” Something tells her the voices aren’t the patient sort. Something also tells her that if they go now, she isn't likely to be in danger, not with one (of how many?) of the monsters leading the way.
WESSEX come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts
unsex me here
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[Seasonal Event] Table for one, please
