high hopes

Bastien leaned forward onto the table and swirled his drink, a grin forming on his face that she returned – perhaps a bit relieved that she hadn’t misinterpreted his intentions for his church. It sounded right up her alley, a place to worship while being worshipped, in a way. She only wondered if Frey would be offended that it was under a different god that she was partaking in. Unless Frey didn’t particularly care how she went about enjoying herself so long as she did. He spoke, however, confirming her suspicions and a smirk quirked her own lips up slightly at the corners. Yet she tilted her head to him as he spoke of Safrin, and the candle that was a gift from such a deity. Her head turned to survey the gorgeous candle as the beauty of it sparkled in her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to say in response, other than the fact that it was beautiful once again. Something she had spotted from her very entry into the church. Perhaps the Goddess liked that idea, being the center of attention? Rexanna could understand – would think that if she were a god that she’d want to be remembered the same; worshipped the same way. However, Rexanna’s own recollection of what had happened with Frey seemed to catch Bastien’s attention and she found her sapphire gaze shifting from the candle back to him. “I never got their name.” She began, swirling her drink before taking a sip. “I tried to fix what happened to a friend, and instead of that they taught me a very valuable lesson.” She offered with a light shrug and half laugh. “Also told me to fix my voice I should try enjoying myself, suggested even a threesome to get the job done.” Her laugh was more chiming this time at the mention of it, but the seriousness of the task was well heard. “And well, here I am.” She hummed, her sultry voice softening with a wink in his direction. She paused for a few more heartbeats, looking back to the easel with a curious eye. “You said you were a man of the arts, would you care for a model? I apologize if I interrupted you, it’s the least I can do.” She purred with another tilt of her head. RexannA you are a church of broken glass and hallelujahs you are haunted like every holy thing.

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