A thin smile doesn't reach her eyes, and causes the scar across her mouth to look a deeper ravine than it's already cut. "It's Wander these days," she corrects coolly. "You read the lovely introduction material. Obviously I was chosen to be here." If one decides to believe that that's the case, and that it isn't a cosmic fluke of some sort. Odessa's self-centred enough to truly love the idea that the Gods chose her.

"Obviously somebody decided this place needs a starving artist with lofty ideals."