REXANNA
He asks her if he could meet her, and Rexanna’s gaze drifts over to him consideringly. She doesn’t see why not… it wouldn’t be any different than her bringing him to Frey when she was still Abandoned in the hopes of spreading their name. And with it, any form of hopefully good information would be beneficial for them all. So she gives him a gentle smile and nods. “I can take you to her some time.” She agrees quietly, stepping along the snow to the path toward the Manor.
His automatic response to her thank you makes her smile, and she nods with it, reminding her of days past with the common sayings and nonchalance most nobles tended to give. But she doesn’t comment on it, because she’s done it time and time again too. Still, she appreciates it deeply, especially when he comments that Bastien would love it regardless, and her fingers idly rap against the parasol. “He better or he might be surprised to find some fire beneath the ring box.” She jests with a quiet snort.
Not like she’s actually planning on it. She thinks she knows the artist well enough to know what he’ll like.
But she tells him they don’t need to sleep, and that she’s all ears as they round the corner in view of the Manor now, and she glances over to him when he responds. Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “You never know when you might need somebody.” She adds easily. Eyes drift up toward the Manor with far less apprehension than the last time she had visited. “Have you fixed the window in the bathroom yet?” She asks quietly, a small amused smile on her lips — thankful it’s something she can joke about now, that it doesn’t leave a bad taste in her mouth.
His automatic response to her thank you makes her smile, and she nods with it, reminding her of days past with the common sayings and nonchalance most nobles tended to give. But she doesn’t comment on it, because she’s done it time and time again too. Still, she appreciates it deeply, especially when he comments that Bastien would love it regardless, and her fingers idly rap against the parasol. “He better or he might be surprised to find some fire beneath the ring box.” She jests with a quiet snort.
Not like she’s actually planning on it. She thinks she knows the artist well enough to know what he’ll like.
But she tells him they don’t need to sleep, and that she’s all ears as they round the corner in view of the Manor now, and she glances over to him when he responds. Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “You never know when you might need somebody.” She adds easily. Eyes drift up toward the Manor with far less apprehension than the last time she had visited. “Have you fixed the window in the bathroom yet?” She asks quietly, a small amused smile on her lips — thankful it’s something she can joke about now, that it doesn’t leave a bad taste in her mouth.
until the lambs
have become
lions
