REXANNA
He informs her that it’s easy to hide things from Zariah, and she contemplates it the best she can. She supposed it was true, unless Zariah needed something from you – she didn’t know what kind of magic the woman was capable of, and had gone in mostly blind in the sake of love. But she’d do it all again, she would never regret it. Still, she offers the man a small shrug as she continues. She would be a barrier, train harder, become better. She’d never let Zariah harm someone else again, and she doesn’t know Loren very well and he doesn’t know her very well, but she knows from the whisper he gives that he can’t believe it to be a possibility.
But she’d try, or die trying.
Yet they find more items of a questionable sort, and at Rexanna’s comment, she knows he grows a bit more withdrawn, and she lets her sapphire eyes skate over him before they drop to the box he pulls out. Well! He doesn’t have to do it alone, and she reaches over to grab another box, giving him a small fanged smile. “Let me help.” She says softly, gentle. And while she didn’t have telekinesis to get the items into the box, she did have crafting. And she quickly makes up a pair of gloves to slip onto her fingers and help.
She gives him a returning small smile, almost sad. “She did it the best I’ve ever seen.” She tells him with a nod of her head, her dark hair bobbing around her neck. She puts a few of the other items into it, before reaching for a broom to clean the back of anything that might have slipped away. “So… Is there a traditional kind of funeral in your family?” She asks quietly, sad to bring up more sadness, but if there’s a way she could help, she wants to.
Back in Halyven, their funerals had been great, big, brilliant things. A sad time, but a time for celebrating life as well. She wonders what kind of traditions the Launceleyn’s have that might resonate, might be similar, might need a new flare.
But she’d try, or die trying.
Yet they find more items of a questionable sort, and at Rexanna’s comment, she knows he grows a bit more withdrawn, and she lets her sapphire eyes skate over him before they drop to the box he pulls out. Well! He doesn’t have to do it alone, and she reaches over to grab another box, giving him a small fanged smile. “Let me help.” She says softly, gentle. And while she didn’t have telekinesis to get the items into the box, she did have crafting. And she quickly makes up a pair of gloves to slip onto her fingers and help.
She gives him a returning small smile, almost sad. “She did it the best I’ve ever seen.” She tells him with a nod of her head, her dark hair bobbing around her neck. She puts a few of the other items into it, before reaching for a broom to clean the back of anything that might have slipped away. “So… Is there a traditional kind of funeral in your family?” She asks quietly, sad to bring up more sadness, but if there’s a way she could help, she wants to.
Back in Halyven, their funerals had been great, big, brilliant things. A sad time, but a time for celebrating life as well. She wonders what kind of traditions the Launceleyn’s have that might resonate, might be similar, might need a new flare.
the penumbra
the moon is drunk with the sins of the sun.
& you stare, and wonder why
the universe never loved you back
