in the right heaven-yellow light, anything could be
holy enough to save you
Rexanna, too, has a strong survival instinct, but it seems as though it’s nothing in comparison to what Phoebe had seen from him. She puts the thought from her mind, nodding aimlessly, arms wrapped around her legs, rocking back slightly until she tells Phoebe they did not know. Now, Rexanna doesn’t know for certain, but the way the fingers were pointed, the Safehouses created just in case, they had all known it was a matter of time. It’s just… Nobody has told her yet that it for certain was them.Still, the rage that appears on her friend’s face is unlike anything she’s seen before, and cautiously Rexanna doesn’t know what Phoebe is capable of. Sapphire eyes watch her blonde friend, momentarily, before she pics apart what she says. “I don’t know for sure, but everyone has said it is if you spend time to listen close enough.” Perhaps it’s an automatic calm in the face of the flurry of anger, but Rexanna’s safe is soft, calm, even, collected, while her friend rages and rampages on.
Yet one very different part between Rexanna before her Ascension, and now, is that she isn’t afraid any longer. And rather than defending and fighting back with sharply barbed words, she lets them use her as a dart board, letting Phoebe fly her arrows, even if the words were sharp and venomous. And yet… Yet, the Penumbra finds herself not minding them. To see the true feelings, and she stands slowly as she regards Phoebe, eyes bright yet narrowed slightly.
And she stands, so unnaturally still and quiet as she lets Phoebe fling her insults. Letting the temper quell, the words hang into the air. It’s true, she hadn’t gone to see Frey, she hadn’t known what to say – but she had prayed regardless, even if she didn’t attend the shrine. She had done her part, thanked them, moved on, and stopped bothering them with her petty troubles.
One of the best parts about being Ascended, is not needing to breathe, and she remains calm, no nostrils flaring at the accusations, chest remaining completely still, and while she doesn’t have a heart per say, she does feel one deep for her friend. But she doesn’t know if Phoebe wants to see that yet. And all she can do in the meantime is remain calm as she can, refraining from baring her fangs, to tell Phoebe exactly why she did it.
But again, with the sides.
She runs a hand through her hair, recalling the conversation with Jigano. On both, she wants to tell Phoebe. A child from both, and yet still a child of none at all. “A den of murderers?” She says slowly, contemplative, running a hand through her short dark hair as she looks away from Phoebe. “Am I included in that statement? Or is it for just the Naturals? Because I can tell you that Samuel would never willingly do something like that.” She admits. “Bastien is not a natural Ascended either, but I'm sure he falls into that category, too?” She had seen the look he had given her when she returned from the pumpkin fight, she knows he has a kind heart. She wouldn't be marrying him if he didn't. “I helped you Phoebe, with the sample, and just because I know people more than face value and coincidence like you do, you think that entitles you to knowing their actions?” She tilts her head, perhaps a smidge more predatory than intended. She knew Wessex would do what the Voice wanted, but Lucas was in it for himself and only himself. And she intended to make sure he was restrained, a short leash.
“I wish to be on both, I am made of both. You are my friend Phoebe, one of the first I made here, but you are not the one to fight the wars of the gods.” She admits, a bit sadly, a frown forming along her face. “What I have seen, and what you have seen, are very different things.” She pauses considering. “Did it ever occur to you that we might want to help? And that we can’t because we expect pitchforks and flames in the night to end us?” She asks.
The same fight, different sides. First, Naturals versus Outlanders. And now, the Ascended versus the world.
REXANNA
