I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF

How one entertains the vast possibilities of the unknown, and furthermore, how one reacts when contact is made, says much about them. For Wessex, another’s reaction to her stature and horns are telling. Do their eyes grow wide, their nostrils flare, their gaze dark furtively around, looking quickly for exits, should she become ‘dangerous?’ Do they take her in stride, assuming the best and looking past outer appearances? - which is overly naive, she personally thinks - but some are quite optimistic about the world; Wessex would not damage that outlook without good cause. Unfortunately, good cause occasionally means good pay.

That is not the case, here. Here is a brand new opportunity (the definition is vague - Wessex is not entirely sure what she seeks, and therefore has neither expectations nor prejudices), and the wanderer does not want to spoil it. Before she sees the richly colored unicorn, she hears an unusual whistle, and when her head whips towards the sound, spies a floating mass through the skeletal trees. Stopping mid-step, Wessex focuses on it, trying to find why it looks vaguely familiar - or perhaps what it reminds her of. When its flippers become discernible, the image of the water-bound whale comes to mind - and in fact, that seems to be what it is. Minus the water. Hers was a sea-bordering kingdom, and she can remember a single episode when there was the luxury (perhaps her mother gave it to her, perhaps it was simply stolen time) to whale watch.

Even though they were a ways offshore, the breaching beasts seemed massive to young Wessex; big and joyful, she wondered if they were celebrating something, if their joy was so vast that they could not keep it under water, that they must share it with the land-dwellers and the flyers. Were they playing ‘who can make the biggest splash?’ She leaned against her stately dam and told her that one day, she wanted to be that big, she wanted to make such large splashes that they heard it down the coastline - if only to protect her mother and their Kingdom. Then no one would dare try to take their home from them - not the ever-advancing mold, and not the monsters that come slinking after.

So the whale is unusual, especially to see it floating above the ground, but her face is a steel mask of neutrality, a self-preservation lesson taught only by experiences and previous mistakes. Now that Tiamat has found her and issued a friendly greeting, Wessex must meet her with the same good faith. The mottled-gray mare meets the blue unicorn and her floating companion halfway between their original distance, yellow-orange eyes flicking occasionally between the two. Giving the appearance of a relaxation, Wessex remains slightly on edge until it can be determined whether or not the duo could be dangerous. Anyone with a horn and whale friend should be treated cautiously.

“Helovia,” she repeats after Tiamat, finding that indeed, she’s never heard the name before. “I am. Forgive me if I’m trespassing, I saw no signs of patrol or markers to indicate a border.” And if there were none set out, then she is not to be faulted. But alas, not all kingdoms thing so logically, or set up the proper precautions. And for the moment, she withholds her name. Better to be safe than sorry.  

wessex