you are like the golden hour. it all glows different
“Mmm.” She comments in a hum of a sound at Bastien’s bragging. She doesn’t deny that the Ascension has effected his shape, and she snuggles in closer to his body as if she might forget the curve of his biceps, the edge of his shoulder where it dipped to find his collarbone. But she doesn’t comment further, not until he mentions the military, and she nods slowly. “I don’t trust Zariah.” She admits ruefully, a slight frown crossing her face from her unseeing eyes. “Though I won’t do anything like a draft. I just want to be sure we won’t be invaded.” Another small pause before she goes on to explain the positions she’s worked on, who she’d planned on giving a small heads up.
“They do not, you’re right.” She says, tilting her head back to him, as though she can look through the blindfold to see his stunning face. “That’s why I’ll put it up for a vote. Let those that think that they can do it, offer themselves. Let the people choose.” A smile for that – because in that way, if the people had their say, could they truly be fully upset in the end when they had approved, agreed?
He does offer a small amount of certainty that she’ll remain queen, though she finds it half unlikely. Still, she can’t help the wrinkle of her nose, the snort that leaves her and the chimed breath of air that leaves her lungs. “Well, perhaps I might just take it too much to my head and bring it to the bedroom, hm?” She teases him, hand wrapping around his arm to keep him near. “See how this anarchist feels about that.” A laugh, a bright smile sent his way.
“They do not, you’re right.” She says, tilting her head back to him, as though she can look through the blindfold to see his stunning face. “That’s why I’ll put it up for a vote. Let those that think that they can do it, offer themselves. Let the people choose.” A smile for that – because in that way, if the people had their say, could they truly be fully upset in the end when they had approved, agreed?
He does offer a small amount of certainty that she’ll remain queen, though she finds it half unlikely. Still, she can’t help the wrinkle of her nose, the snort that leaves her and the chimed breath of air that leaves her lungs. “Well, perhaps I might just take it too much to my head and bring it to the bedroom, hm?” She teases him, hand wrapping around his arm to keep him near. “See how this anarchist feels about that.” A laugh, a bright smile sent his way.
when you're here
REXANNA
