REXANNA
I am your friend
a soul for your soul
Everything about her life is different now. It had taken some adjustment, some getting used to the way she moved and learned what it was like to be Ascended. But much to her surprise, the magic she had thought lost to her still brimmed beneath her skin. The only difference now being that her glamour is gone, the ethereal beauty she had been gifted fell away like a shimmering shawl. And with it, her brand had returned. Yet Rexanna doesn’t worry over it, not any longer. She has left Halyven and Asciend behind, looked toward the future, became a weapon in light of it all.
And this weapon has some unfinished business.
Under the cover of night, she approaches the Launceleyn Manor, only she doesn’t enter. Zariah may be away, but that doesn’t mean Rexanna trusts any of it – but Peter, poor Peter trapped in the Manor as well. She doesn’t know if he’s aware of what’s happened, and its been a few weeks now since her escape. She passes through the grounds so quietly, no brushing of dresses to cling onto branches. She wears tight fitting clothes, nothing to snag or tear, and her hair is tied back. Far less the queenly, diligent pawn and looking more like a sharpened blade.
She reaches the window she’s certain is Peter’s and reaches down to grab a pebble, tossing it up at the window – one after another just in case he didn’t hear the first one. And then she settled and waited, eyes seeing easily in the dark up to the window.
And this weapon has some unfinished business.
Under the cover of night, she approaches the Launceleyn Manor, only she doesn’t enter. Zariah may be away, but that doesn’t mean Rexanna trusts any of it – but Peter, poor Peter trapped in the Manor as well. She doesn’t know if he’s aware of what’s happened, and its been a few weeks now since her escape. She passes through the grounds so quietly, no brushing of dresses to cling onto branches. She wears tight fitting clothes, nothing to snag or tear, and her hair is tied back. Far less the queenly, diligent pawn and looking more like a sharpened blade.
She reaches the window she’s certain is Peter’s and reaches down to grab a pebble, tossing it up at the window – one after another just in case he didn’t hear the first one. And then she settled and waited, eyes seeing easily in the dark up to the window.
sun or water,
here or away
we are a lighthouse
we leave and we stay
