REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
Her story had never been one of roses and happiness, but in all reality, whose was? She wasn’t as good of a story teller as Bastien was, to be able to explain and show her experiences in the painterly, artistic way that he could – but the tone of her voice, the shift in the words she used, it was her own way of painting it. In a way that was a bit less visual but still enough of an emotion to cause the understanding without the vividness of the imagery to accompany it.
But like always, Bastien was one of the best listeners she knew – quiet and calm, collected, listening until she paused long enough for him to interject. And when he does, he reaches out to touch her gently and she dries herself off in the process before she leans forward to rest her head on his shoulder when he speaks with confidence and venom, one that she wished to see if only to prove to them that she was worth something to someone, more than anything.
She can’t help the slight smile that reaches the corners of her lips at his admission, and she nods slowly in agreement. “That is not all, unfortunately.” She tells him before she pulls away to look into his face, to let his gaze and presence fill her with warmth where her memories left her haunted and cold. “A week or two, I can’t remember, after that – they took me out in a cage, put me in a wagon of sorts, and took me to Halyven with their armies.” She contemplates, pausing as she remembers it.
“They placed me at the top of the hill to watch while they took my city. I was surrounded by guards and cannons, trapped and concealed like an animal in a cage watching their home burn.” She frowns at this, gaze narrowing slightly as she looks away from him, her good arm lifting to show him just how big the cage had been – quite small in comparison – before she gnaws on her lip gently. “But a cannon had a misfire, and it shot into the guards and hit the carriage just enough to create an opening. And through the flames I ran like hell. I remained on the run for many months.” She finally looks back to him with a smile.
But like always, Bastien was one of the best listeners she knew – quiet and calm, collected, listening until she paused long enough for him to interject. And when he does, he reaches out to touch her gently and she dries herself off in the process before she leans forward to rest her head on his shoulder when he speaks with confidence and venom, one that she wished to see if only to prove to them that she was worth something to someone, more than anything.
She can’t help the slight smile that reaches the corners of her lips at his admission, and she nods slowly in agreement. “That is not all, unfortunately.” She tells him before she pulls away to look into his face, to let his gaze and presence fill her with warmth where her memories left her haunted and cold. “A week or two, I can’t remember, after that – they took me out in a cage, put me in a wagon of sorts, and took me to Halyven with their armies.” She contemplates, pausing as she remembers it.
“They placed me at the top of the hill to watch while they took my city. I was surrounded by guards and cannons, trapped and concealed like an animal in a cage watching their home burn.” She frowns at this, gaze narrowing slightly as she looks away from him, her good arm lifting to show him just how big the cage had been – quite small in comparison – before she gnaws on her lip gently. “But a cannon had a misfire, and it shot into the guards and hit the carriage just enough to create an opening. And through the flames I ran like hell. I remained on the run for many months.” She finally looks back to him with a smile.
and a wound in the other
