REXANNA
paint my spirit gold
If she was being honest, Bastien was the last person she ever expected to confess some kind of change in character. But he was evolving, changing and shifting just as she was, and it was something she found she was more and more attached to as the days went on. As they grew and changed, crossing paths like stars, meeting sporadically at first only to collide yet again and again. She imagined it was bound to happen, at least if the thundering of her heart was any kind of indication. As she kissed his temple, she thought about that, about their unique shared interests that had perhaps blossomed into something different than either of them had expected. And as she listened to the words he spoke, calling it a puzzle, she smiled slightly into his lips as they met. But there was something else in that kiss, that perhaps she had tried to ignore before but could no longer. And despite the fact he wasn’t that warm person from before, she found that the Ascended status suited him. Perhaps it had indeed humbled him in some aspects. And she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Voice to be able to share such a gentle thing, a beautiful rose blossoming despite being hidden by shade and doubts, with him.
She could’ve melted into that kiss, could have forgotten about the painting for the time being and simply lost herself for a few moments, but he pulled away. Her cheeks blushing ever so slightly as she surveyed him again, watching as his eyes darted to the gilded dress. “I told you gold was my favorite color.” She offered with a roguish grin. “I would love nothing more.” She finally answered his question, slipping away to the painting room and grabbing the rest of the dress she had brought – deciding delicately that they were dating now and in all honesty Bastien had seen every bit of her, that she wasn’t self-conscious of changing out of some of the warmer clothes she had brought to slip into the gilded fabric.
As she did so, her back to him as she removed the blouse and with it, the pants she had worn. She reached for the pieces of the dress, at first sliding the skirt over her hips and hiding a few of the aforementioned scars, then with a roguish grin sent over her shoulder to Bastien she reached for the top and slipped it on, gesturing to him to help her lace it. She could have done it herself, and had before, but why not have an extra set of hands? “Do you think you could lace it up for me?” She questioned to him, hair pulled over the side of her shoulder as she looked over the bruised portion of her neck toward him with a grin.
