RexannA
your battle-worn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore
that you are ruined
Despite the little amount of talk Rexanna had actually done, the thoughts and ideas at the forefront of her mind were laid out, a book for Frey to read at their whim. They began to speak, to talk of her ‘lame’ love as they had put it – to which she had to agree. She didn’t really have love. She had managed somehow to fall in love with her husband, but through necessity and not by her true will, and the events with Alistair were so new and fresh that it could hardly be considered anything huge just yet. All the times she had spent in the last few years before arriving here had literally been to ensure her survival – and here she was flaunting it away as easily as the stroke of a pen.
Frey looked at her then, their eyes roving over her in a way that made her feel even more inferior than before, her stomach dropping further at the idea of paying a price – though it was due for her having even summoned them here – and with it no solace for Remi at all. And as she looked at Frey now, through the beauty and the dazzle of their appearance, it became frightening. Sucking in a breath quietly, she offered a small nod, trying to avert her gaze to not offend further. Suddenly, Frey sighed, and Rexanna exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d held onto. Her lungs began to hurt slightly, but she listened – focused intently on the deity before her with everything she had.
They began to speak true – that nobody would care if she tore herself apart for them. She understood, had understood that people would use her and abuse her nature despite everything she’d done for them. Perhaps it was deserved, perhaps it wasn’t. If Frey had felt generous enough to tell her the path she set herself on, perhaps they were doing her a favor in giving her an option to change it. To focus on her, to fix herself before she was too used and broken beyond repair. But she had wanted to punish herself somehow, for being foolish and continuing to be the wrecking ball that was her life.
Then they asked if Remi asked her to come to them, and she inhaled deeply, lungs aching as she shook her head no. “He has no idea. I haven’t even talked to him since.” She offered quietly, pushing through her shaking voice to realize that had she talked to Remi, the man would have probably urged her not to pursue it. She had promised, however, to help in any way and the only way she could think of was at the source. “No. I don’t.” She admitted, sheepishly though understanding glinted at the forefront of her mind. And now she knew that perhaps helping everyone in the world to try and fix her wrongs was a terrible thing to do. She took the advice willingly, thankfully, taking it into her heart and securing it there.
Frey continued to give advice, however, and Rexanna listened with everything she had. She nodded to them, eyes still focused down in fear of upsetting them further. But she knew what they said was true. She thought about the terrible feeling in her gut at what happened with Remi – then not long after her elation and enjoyment of being with Alistair, of the ‘good old fashioned fun’ they had more than once. Still, she nodded again, remembering how despite her dread in her gut at all the things she had done, that Alistair had helped her forget – had put her mind in the clouds, far from any destruction and blood, and how she felt free for the first time in a long time.
Her head lifted toward Frey as they peered into her eyes – their eyes a beautiful enchanting mix of hues that captivated her, unable to look away or even properly think it seemed. They asked her a question, and her response was fast. “No.” She began, staring deep into Frey’s eyes. “None of them have.” She added, her eyes and body captured by Frey, deep down angry at how everything she had done had been for nothing. How everything that had happened to her was a struggle and nothing good had come from it. And how stupid she had been for continuing to do it, over and over again for some kind of reward, some kind of reaction from someone to tell her it was right, that she was willing to destroy herself for others she’d hardly known.
So she looked into Frey’s eyes, with a new resounding determination building in her chest alongside the truth that they had spoken to her. She held onto it with a tight grip, eyes focusing on the multitude of colors as she inhaled deeply yet again, “I was not meant to be a sacrificial lamb. I am a lover and a fighter. I am strong, and I will fight to remain that way until my last breath.” She breathed, deep down solidifying the sentiment. The things in her past, they had shaped her and defined her, but she needed to own them rather than use them as a noose growing tighter around her neck. The scars on her body, the brand on her collarbone, they were all because she had fought for her survival. Despite what Frey decided to take for payment in her foolishness, at least she’d learned an extremely valuable lesson. To care less about others, to enjoy and indulge in what she wanted and to hell with the consequences. To take without caring of the results. This was to be her rebirth, and she clung to it with all that she had as she awaited her punishment.
AND YOU WONDER WHY HE LETS YOU — THE BUTCHER
TOUCH HIM — THE SUN
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