REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
She takes the praise of her escape like a balm. It was good for her, and she was glad that somebody could see it – somebody that knew her past as he did, someone that could understand why she hadn’t and wouldn’t be forced to live in a cage again. She could tell as many people as she wanted, but it never quite gave the same reaction as somebody who had been there for part of it. Only instead of Halyven being her cage, the Edge became it eventually as well. And well, we couldn’t have that after all.
Her tone grows serious as she tells her tale, she tells him she’s ascended, and her eyes flicker along the flames beneath the panes of his face. And for a moment, she’s worried, worried that he’ll react the same as so many others. But where concern crosses most others’ faces, a grin forms on Deimos’ face – one to rival her own fanged grin, and she leans back slightly as a chuckle leaves her lips. “I have!” She agrees, lifting the glass to clink it to his own before taking another sip – one that doesn’t burn, doesn’t impair, doesn’t taste – before she glances to him as he mentions the man she’s previously mentioned.
“Bastien.” She says quietly with a small laugh, the teasing nature to his eyebrow. They’d been together some time, and she hadn’t left him – hadn’t abandoned him, had learned her mistakes. “We’ve been together some time, since Deepfrost really.” She says softly, a tenderness to her voice as she thinks on their first date, when he asked her to try it again with him. And she had said yes.
But movement flickers and her eyes drift (more predatory than she ever had before) to look at the shadowed creature. The fire flickers its reflection along her coat, and Rexanna’s eyes widen and another grin forms. She looks back toward Deimos, repeating his previous pose, waiting for the details. “Your turn to spill.” She says with a wink, eyes drifting back to Zuriel with excitement lingering in her mind at what kind of tale she held.
Her tone grows serious as she tells her tale, she tells him she’s ascended, and her eyes flicker along the flames beneath the panes of his face. And for a moment, she’s worried, worried that he’ll react the same as so many others. But where concern crosses most others’ faces, a grin forms on Deimos’ face – one to rival her own fanged grin, and she leans back slightly as a chuckle leaves her lips. “I have!” She agrees, lifting the glass to clink it to his own before taking another sip – one that doesn’t burn, doesn’t impair, doesn’t taste – before she glances to him as he mentions the man she’s previously mentioned.
“Bastien.” She says quietly with a small laugh, the teasing nature to his eyebrow. They’d been together some time, and she hadn’t left him – hadn’t abandoned him, had learned her mistakes. “We’ve been together some time, since Deepfrost really.” She says softly, a tenderness to her voice as she thinks on their first date, when he asked her to try it again with him. And she had said yes.
But movement flickers and her eyes drift (more predatory than she ever had before) to look at the shadowed creature. The fire flickers its reflection along her coat, and Rexanna’s eyes widen and another grin forms. She looks back toward Deimos, repeating his previous pose, waiting for the details. “Your turn to spill.” She says with a wink, eyes drifting back to Zuriel with excitement lingering in her mind at what kind of tale she held.
and a wound in the other
