REXANNA
paint my spirit gold
Part of her is surprised when he lets her hold him, but she doesn’t show it. Instead, she buries it deep within her as she holds him tight to her – his head finding comfort in the side of her neck. And while she can’t feel much, she can feel the slight dampness to her shirt while the boy deals with his emotions. But she doesn’t mind, keeping him close to her while she explains about princes and noble pricks, a pale hand reaching up to brush soothing circles along his back.“Oh she knows.” She replies wryly with a small smile. Her and Wessex had that conversation once before, and it was mostly her explaining to the Ascended Queen that noble men specifically were complete royal assholes, though she knows that with power comes some form of arrogance. She’d had it, once. But she’d tried hard to swallow it down, to remain true to her roots, so to speak. And it had worked, for a time, before she truly become nobody again.
As he apologizes about her shirt, she continues the soothing circles along his back for a brief moment, contemplating. “Oh this old thing?” She manages, pausing briefly to keep him close while she runs her hands along the shirt he wears, transmuting it just enough to make it soft, fluffy, clean, and bright in comparison to what it had been when he had when he walked in. “There’s bigger things to deal with than a wet shirt.” She adds after a moment, waiting to see if he’s noticed what she’s done.
