i'm tired of the weight of mortality, i want to tear it from my veins
until i bleed silver and gold
A chuckle of laughter leaves her as Bastien mentions he’d be a lazy god, a slight shake to her head. “A very handsome one though.” She replies easily, lips forming a bright grin. She can picture it, sunlight filtering in over his body, wasting the day away being fed and doted on. It’s amusing to her. But she’s thankful after a moment when Bastien begins to describe what Pittore looks like, and she sits up slightly to focus on the sound of his voice.
“Awww.” She coos, immensely loving the fatherly tone his voice has taken when it comes to the companion. And she can feel the change, the shift in the creature as he pushes on the sofa to sit beside her, and she sits up just enough to fold her legs in and make some space as Bastien helps lift the gremlin onto the sofa. “Oh! Another little artistic one.” She hums delighted, feeling Pittore lean toward her and curl up.
Well that wouldn’t do.
At least now she knew where he was, and she reaches over to pick him up and settle him into her lap, arms wrapping around the creature as she brings the embroidery thing she’s been working on before Pittore. “Does he like to do anything else? Or just paint?” She questions, leaning over the gremlin’s shoulder to point to some of the edges she’s been working on as if she can see them, but she goes off of feeling and tries her best to show the creature what she’s creating.
“Awww.” She coos, immensely loving the fatherly tone his voice has taken when it comes to the companion. And she can feel the change, the shift in the creature as he pushes on the sofa to sit beside her, and she sits up just enough to fold her legs in and make some space as Bastien helps lift the gremlin onto the sofa. “Oh! Another little artistic one.” She hums delighted, feeling Pittore lean toward her and curl up.
Well that wouldn’t do.
At least now she knew where he was, and she reaches over to pick him up and settle him into her lap, arms wrapping around the creature as she brings the embroidery thing she’s been working on before Pittore. “Does he like to do anything else? Or just paint?” She questions, leaning over the gremlin’s shoulder to point to some of the edges she’s been working on as if she can see them, but she goes off of feeling and tries her best to show the creature what she’s creating.
maybe one day they'll chant our names
and name galaxies after us, and we too shall be eternal
REXANNA
