REXANNA
The Penumbra meets his gaze when he turns to stare at her, a roll of her shoulders in a light shrug. Second changes, triple chances, however many it took, Rexanna wasn’t picky. It was difficult for her to peg someone to be wrong and terrible, unless they had done it over and over. That was her flaw, that was her weakness. Even her ex-husband that had abused her and tossed her into a dungeon cell was still forgiven, somewhere deep in that aching heart of hers.
After she brands him back, of course.
“Well, I don’t know you very well, so this is your first chance for me.” She crows with a bit of cheer, winking toward him. “So far you’re doing great.” She adds with a hum of laughter before it fades and they’re cleaning. He creates a rag, slipping out to grab some water to wet it and clean up the dust, and Rexanna continues to push the broom around, collecting the dust and dirt into small piles around the room. As she finds more, they find their way into the box.
His question makes her think, and she pauses, her hand stilling on the handle of the broom before she leans against it and regards him. “Halyven, my country, was nestled in the mountains. Tall ivory peaks with the greatest views of the sunset.” She explains quietly, contemplative, nostalgic; knowing those towers were crumbling beneath the siege makes her far more contemplative. But she continues on. “We couldn’t exactly bury our dead, the ground was too tough. But we had a beautiful river that snaked from the castle through the city. And we would make grand boats, place our dead within and the things they liked from their family.” She pauses. “And we would send them out, to travel down the river, to the sea.”
Her sapphire gaze slips back to him with a small shrug. “Nobles would help pay for the poor’s funerals. Boats were given, a right. But they could be painted at a cost. We would pay for that, after all. It’s the least we could do.” She says, not realizing her slip – not particularly caring if he reads between the lines. She had been noble, she had been someone. And yet her home was a crumbled mess with hundreds of bodies that would never travel down the river to the sea.
She shrugs off the feeling internally while she begins to sweep again, and Loren’s suggestion picks up in the Penumbra’s mind. He mentions it could work, with a hint of hesitation, that causes Rexanna to smirk quietly. “Oh, it’ll be fun. Come on.” She tempts him with a huff of laughter. “No need to worry about planning it all by your lonesome.” She adds on, sending a gentler smile his way. “I would absolutely love to celebrate her. I’m sure there are many that would.” A small amount of hope deep within her voice, but she grows bright at his offer for helping. “You have a lot to deal with, with the funeral. I can handle the majority of it.”
After she brands him back, of course.
“Well, I don’t know you very well, so this is your first chance for me.” She crows with a bit of cheer, winking toward him. “So far you’re doing great.” She adds with a hum of laughter before it fades and they’re cleaning. He creates a rag, slipping out to grab some water to wet it and clean up the dust, and Rexanna continues to push the broom around, collecting the dust and dirt into small piles around the room. As she finds more, they find their way into the box.
His question makes her think, and she pauses, her hand stilling on the handle of the broom before she leans against it and regards him. “Halyven, my country, was nestled in the mountains. Tall ivory peaks with the greatest views of the sunset.” She explains quietly, contemplative, nostalgic; knowing those towers were crumbling beneath the siege makes her far more contemplative. But she continues on. “We couldn’t exactly bury our dead, the ground was too tough. But we had a beautiful river that snaked from the castle through the city. And we would make grand boats, place our dead within and the things they liked from their family.” She pauses. “And we would send them out, to travel down the river, to the sea.”
Her sapphire gaze slips back to him with a small shrug. “Nobles would help pay for the poor’s funerals. Boats were given, a right. But they could be painted at a cost. We would pay for that, after all. It’s the least we could do.” She says, not realizing her slip – not particularly caring if he reads between the lines. She had been noble, she had been someone. And yet her home was a crumbled mess with hundreds of bodies that would never travel down the river to the sea.
She shrugs off the feeling internally while she begins to sweep again, and Loren’s suggestion picks up in the Penumbra’s mind. He mentions it could work, with a hint of hesitation, that causes Rexanna to smirk quietly. “Oh, it’ll be fun. Come on.” She tempts him with a huff of laughter. “No need to worry about planning it all by your lonesome.” She adds on, sending a gentler smile his way. “I would absolutely love to celebrate her. I’m sure there are many that would.” A small amount of hope deep within her voice, but she grows bright at his offer for helping. “You have a lot to deal with, with the funeral. I can handle the majority of it.”
the penumbra
the moon is drunk with the sins of the sun.
& you stare, and wonder why
the universe never loved you back
