WESSEX
the wraith
Bright. Reflective. Made with shards of glass, Ursur fur, and wire she molds the lantern into something resembling a blade or a fang; a promise and an homage to the family she’d come to treasure. Barbaric. Violent. Cold. Snow crunches beneath her light footsteps, muffling what was already quiet and graceful. A quiet figure weaves into the empty spots in the crowd until she finds a place to hang her lantern. Her hand lingers on it, fingers gently resting against the wiry fur. Faces run through her mind: the eager twins, her sweet Clemente, beautiful Rex, brash Lucas, mysterious Aedion, stoic 108, formal Kristopher, and whomever else she’s missing. It’s the first year that a lantern hangs for the Ascended and not for her Ma and sister. It’s the first year she steps beyond the past and into the future. Magrethe will always be a part of her, but Magrethe is not here, now.
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
