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I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF
Wessex is starting to feel a bit lightheaded from all the heat and steam – and probably because she hasn’t stopped to eat anything recently, that’s how eager she was to get back to the Springs and begin to soothe her wreck of a body. She should probably get out soon, but then Weaver brings up that whammy of a question – the one they’re all trying to figure out. She exhales loudly and takes a couple of steps back, letting the steam roll off her muscles, even in the warmth of a summer’s night. The top third of her tail is revealed, too, crimson-tipped white mirroring the flashy things on top of her head.
That seems to be the million dollar question, doesn’t it?” Her head tilts to one side as she actually, seriously considers the question. “Well… Power, I imagine. Or Revenge. Though I’m not entirely convinced he’s all that bad, because if he were, I would imagine the Gods would be like, ‘do this shit to stop him,’ because losing worshippers doesn’t seem like fun. But they’ve left us to our own devices, you know?” She shrugs, moving her shoulders up and down in a sort of helpless gesture. “Everyone lies and the winners write themselves down as the good guys, so... ” She turns her head to look out towards the Basin’s entrance, out towards the rest of the world. “If it all goes to hell, I figure I can always leave. Don’t really want to, but…” She’d lived a part of her life on the road before, earning her keep the old fashioned way. She could always do it again.
But like she said, she doesn’t want to. And that’s about as close as anyone will ever get to hear her admitting she’s really fond of the Basin and its band of oddities.
W E S S E X
@Weaver
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --
