[seasonal event] blindsided

REXANNA they say that war is hell, but true hell begins when the battle ends — His clapping ignited something within her, a deep desire for praise that she had forgotten she craved. But it wasn’t the first time he’d clapped like that for her, and she watched him for a moment with a pleased smile and a quiet laugh. “I can make wool less itchy which is always a great thing.” She added, a honey dipped chuckle following behind it closely. But as she got comfortable and poised her question to Bastien, she watched as he glanced to the counter and then back to her to join her. If he needed to go, she had no real reason to keep him. Aside from the fact it could be nice. It was that thought and the one of their flirtations that day they officially met and she had posed for him and his artwork that had her breathing deeply when he settled though remained a bit of distance away from her. Her brows furrowed for a moment, but she eyed the way he laid and how warm and soft he seemed, and she absently chewed on her lip before sitting up slightly on her elbow to look down at him as she hovered slightly. Her hair a dark waterfall as it reached below her shoulders now and hovered lightly above the pillows beneath. That was when she heard his comment and a small yet chimed laugh left her. All thoughts of the dark prison she had spent time in vanished from her mind. She was here, in the Tavern, with Bastien and human contact. Something she treasured deep down. “With our reputations it’s hard to deny regardless.” She teased in her hummed tone, flashing a wink to him in reference to his Masquerade and the imagery that flashed into her mind of all the bodies and pleasure that’d ensued that night. “May I?” She questioned him with a tilt of her head, looking down at him and gesturing slightly to be able to lay on his chest. To be close. To be touched and held. and you're the only one who's hands drip red. the real war rages in your heart; it always has.