REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
They had been unlikely companions in the onslaught of the northern winds, carried and brought together by mountains and gilded thieves in the night. She had arrived on the doorstep, much like how she arrived here – but that separate version of her had felt as though she had something to prove, to relax from having the feeling of always looking over her shoulder. Here, it never truly left. Maybe for a time, like when she met a handsome man with an accented voice and a fierceness for the theatrics. And for a time, she had stopped looking – wrapped up and focused on the here and now, that like before she had forgotten to look further.
The other people within the world she found herself in, dipping their fingers into all the bowls and creating something specific from it that she couldn’t quite see just yet – until it collapses above. She sees it now, and while things are still good, fine, better than ever… There’s still that part of her that begs and yearns for preparation. A preparation for the inevitable unknown. And Bastien had given her the tools to do just that. If she didn’t love him more for it now, she didn’t know if she ever would.
But her sapphire gaze slips toward Deimos, the pillar of strength she had become a friend of – that night, scheming and planning among tents and festivities to plan, a slip of a paint brush on his cheek (a surprise for a man who’d rather not be touched) she can’t help but to relish in the new version of him. Still the same old brooding monarch – with no crown – but with more life to him. Perhaps the same amount of fears, though he hides them better. Rather than shutting everyone out, he’s there in the thick of it.
The Penumbra finds she’s proud of him.
And when he pins the question to her, in regards to her Ascension and new life, she gives him a fanged smirk. “To do what I’ve always wanted to do, I suppose.” She says, rolling her shoulders and stretching a small amount before her eyes land on him again, a piercing fierceness in their sapphire depths. “Fight for what’s right. I have all the tools I could ever imagine to do so with. It's just a matter of picking my battles.” She says, a bit softly, but there’s resilience in her voice that she’s certain he picks up on. She has become a double edged sword.
The other people within the world she found herself in, dipping their fingers into all the bowls and creating something specific from it that she couldn’t quite see just yet – until it collapses above. She sees it now, and while things are still good, fine, better than ever… There’s still that part of her that begs and yearns for preparation. A preparation for the inevitable unknown. And Bastien had given her the tools to do just that. If she didn’t love him more for it now, she didn’t know if she ever would.
But her sapphire gaze slips toward Deimos, the pillar of strength she had become a friend of – that night, scheming and planning among tents and festivities to plan, a slip of a paint brush on his cheek (a surprise for a man who’d rather not be touched) she can’t help but to relish in the new version of him. Still the same old brooding monarch – with no crown – but with more life to him. Perhaps the same amount of fears, though he hides them better. Rather than shutting everyone out, he’s there in the thick of it.
The Penumbra finds she’s proud of him.
And when he pins the question to her, in regards to her Ascension and new life, she gives him a fanged smirk. “To do what I’ve always wanted to do, I suppose.” She says, rolling her shoulders and stretching a small amount before her eyes land on him again, a piercing fierceness in their sapphire depths. “Fight for what’s right. I have all the tools I could ever imagine to do so with. It's just a matter of picking my battles.” She says, a bit softly, but there’s resilience in her voice that she’s certain he picks up on. She has become a double edged sword.
and a wound in the other
