gold is the hand you press to her hip
oh darling,
It’s an added benefit that the Penumbra needs never to sleep, because she would and physically could stand here all night, holding the trembling, terrified child within her arms. And she’d be happy to drown the girl in her love and warmth (figuratively of course). But she would do it, if it helped. If until Melita’s blight acts back up and she needs to prick her again with another thorn. She would do it, for the semblance of normalcy. For keeping her sane enough to try and fight back, to give Vi’s roses a chance to work.Gods does she hope they work.
She strokes Melita’s hair gently, murmuring and nodding. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” She says sadly. Nobody wanted to be that way, even if it were a choice. And a part of her feels absolutely terrible to have somehow managed to help it pass along, even if inadvertently. She wants to keep everyone safe – that was why she did it. But was she causing more harm than good?
Rexanna gladly holds Melita tighter and tighter, closer and closer – letting the girl squeeze as hard as she needs because of not needing to breathe, not feeling pain. “You’re forgiven.” She tells Melita eventually, gentle and calm, soft as the shadow that crosses the sun during an eclipse. Barely noticeable, until it’s devoured it entirely. A quiet acceptance, endurance. “I am here for you.”
you'd even bleed preciously
REXANNA
