REXANNA
you don't get to die and be reborn the same.
you come back,
Where Deimos has made strides to disappear from the brooding monarch she knew him to be, Rexanna had promised him she wouldn’t fall back into old habits. And for awhile, she thinks it’s true. And she tells herself this every moment she steps out of the house to continue the work she’s been charged with. But when she stands beside the Launceleyn’s and sees those she loves and cares for enter, she cannot escape the eye of the Reaper. And since that moment, the faintest of a quirk her direction, the golden woman realizes she’s perhaps not as good as he has been.
All of this, for Bastien. The only difference is that he rejected the idea rather than encouraged it. Tembovu had been different, encouraging her to leave the comfort of the north for a better life. She wonders if that makes any difference at all. And so she sends the letter to Deimos with a quiet disappearance, waiting until dark before she makes her way there. She’s dressed in finery again, a posture reminiscent of the Thief of the Basin she had been once upon a time. Not as good as the Laurelin, but a thief all the same.
It’s not until she hears the scruff of feet near the entrance that she turns; peering through the dark to see it it’s him or someone else. She catches a glimpse of shadowed dark blue eyes in the darkness, and she opens her palm to create a sparkler to give them some light. Taking a bit of the flame from the firework, she uses it like Peter had to light a forgotten torch on the back wall before her firework had vanished.
“Deimos.” She says softly, making her way further into the Underground. “I’m glad you got my letter.” She says for a moment, offering him a gentle smile before she removes the cloak hood from her head, her dark hair another curtain of dark against the shadowed light. “We needed to talk, but I hadn’t had time before the meeting.”
All of this, for Bastien. The only difference is that he rejected the idea rather than encouraged it. Tembovu had been different, encouraging her to leave the comfort of the north for a better life. She wonders if that makes any difference at all. And so she sends the letter to Deimos with a quiet disappearance, waiting until dark before she makes her way there. She’s dressed in finery again, a posture reminiscent of the Thief of the Basin she had been once upon a time. Not as good as the Laurelin, but a thief all the same.
It’s not until she hears the scruff of feet near the entrance that she turns; peering through the dark to see it it’s him or someone else. She catches a glimpse of shadowed dark blue eyes in the darkness, and she opens her palm to create a sparkler to give them some light. Taking a bit of the flame from the firework, she uses it like Peter had to light a forgotten torch on the back wall before her firework had vanished.
“Deimos.” She says softly, making her way further into the Underground. “I’m glad you got my letter.” She says for a moment, offering him a gentle smile before she removes the cloak hood from her head, her dark hair another curtain of dark against the shadowed light. “We needed to talk, but I hadn’t had time before the meeting.”
but you come back wrong
this is the price
you pay for
resurrection
