REXANNA
they said you were the crooked kind
She explains her past, each time an added piece of the puzzle that made her up. Sure, she’s told Bastien much of it, but the little details are left out on purpose; to be brought up again as added chapters and descriptions to the story that makes her. Rexanna is a story, after all. A story of rags and riches, of dismantling and strength. And her story is far from over yet. She turns to him as he speaks, letting the bitterness envelope his words and she cracks a small smile toward him in understanding. She knew he wouldn’t be okay with this, but what other choice did they have?Her thumb strokes his cheek as he begins to speak again before stopping abruptly and stumbling. Immediately, concern flashes in her eyes and she wonders if perhaps something had happened within the jail. That Zariah has let her have him, but only for a time. Luckily, it changes as he announces he hasn’t fed in awhile, and she exhales a sigh of relief with a nod. “Of course.” She says softly, grasping for his hand to move toward the couch. She doesn’t know if he can make it up the stairs to the bedroom, and so the plush couch should work just fine. “I don’t think they would have wanted you to feed in case you managed to get out somehow anyway.” She says, flashing him a small wink and smile.
But she gestures for him to sit, likely not even needing to before she steps into the kitchen to get a few things for after — a snack for after, to recoup the feeling from the blood loss, yet she brings one for him too even though it wouldn’t do much. She moves toward him after settling the plate onto the table and smiles a bit wider to him, seeming a bit more like her old self. “We’ll get you patched up, hmm?”
but you were always gold to me
