God help the outcasts, the tattered, the torn
Seeking an answer to why they were born
Rexanna's voice came through the shell and it was the most powerful sound Bastien had ever heard. He struggled to not drop to his knees he was so overcome with relief, with a wave of emotion so intense if he still breathed he would struggle to bring in air.
"Rexanna.." He whispered, as if scared saying it too loud would make it all fake. "I am so glad to hear your voice, my love - for a while I feared the worst. I thought you would come back here, then--" Bastien trailed off, shaking his head to himself. "Are you alright?"
Concern for himself was so far out of his mind it was basically nonexistent, so he did not respond to her final comment; she could find out about his minor leg wound (as it was now) later. "Do you need me, cara? I will brave the outside once again if you need me there." He meant it, too.
"Rexanna.." He whispered, as if scared saying it too loud would make it all fake. "I am so glad to hear your voice, my love - for a while I feared the worst. I thought you would come back here, then--" Bastien trailed off, shaking his head to himself. "Are you alright?"
Concern for himself was so far out of his mind it was basically nonexistent, so he did not respond to her final comment; she could find out about his minor leg wound (as it was now) later. "Do you need me, cara? I will brave the outside once again if you need me there." He meant it, too.
Winds of misfortune have blown them about
You made the outcasts, don't cast them out
BASTIEN
