REXANNA
paint my spirit gold
Rexanna knew deep down that if anyone would want to listen to her, to debate with her over the absurdity of the situation, it would be Deimos. It was probably why her feet had taken her unbeknownst to her toward the larger, taller, brooding man. But she didn’t complain when he told her to go ahead, instead it panged at something deep from that other life. As if they had done this before – some kind of injustice that demanded their attention and contemplation. As if they had stood around the mountain tops with the aurora overhead and spoke of anything and everything relating to incidents.This time, it felt comfortable and calm. And she let her gaze slip from Deimos to the wood for a brief moment as she figured out how to speak what she wanted to. “I agree with Rory to an extent.” She began quietly, that storm continuing to brew below. Down, down, down, until she was able to grab ahold of it and pull it up. “But to start something like this, it’s uncalled for. What we needed to do was to have another meeting between people, to talk about what to do now.” She huffed, glancing back up to Deimos and his unreadable face – a face that had always been such in her memories and her time here.
“But now, I don’t think there’s any possibility of that happening? They guard the Spire to prevent those from entering.” There was a growl that laced her words as she thought about that day where an Outlander had died to defeat the Demon. And now, now that it was defeated, they wanted to avoid the inevitable. She sighed, her gaze dropping. “And you had calm, calculating questions that went unanswered in the face of all of the anger and separation.” She spoke almost sadly about it. “What do we do?”
