a candle's fire

REXANNA they say that war is hell, but true hell begins when the battle ends — She looked to Phoebe to await her reaction, gnawing nervously at her lower lip. And she watched as the words hit her friend and sunk in, almost watching the midwife freeze. But then, she began to speak and spoke of the old man (Bastien) that had been rude and what happened to him. A look of confusion crossed her face, years of calculated and cool masking that she had acquired in her previous life as she looked to Phoebe and nodded. “I don’t know what happened to him. But I went to the funeral, and you’re right. The old man was a crab.” She offered with a quiet laugh. But she decided to explain how she found out about Bastien, effectively avoiding her conversation with the old man after the funeral entirely. “But Bastien had gone to speak to the Voice, and that’s why he wasn’t around. Perhaps the old man thought he’d died? I don’t know what to make of it, really.” She paused, head tilting as she calculated it. “Bastien came to me to apologize that he was gone after he helped soothe a panic attack of mine over Longnight. Told me he’d been Ascended, and well… That was that.” She finally said, resulting in a soft smile crossing her face. He had been kind to her, but before when they had shared that same space in the Rathskeller he had been immensely warm, comfortable, kind. He was still those things to her now, perhaps a bit more comforting and a bit less warm in terms of body heat. She rolled her shoulders in a shrug before sighing quietly. “But yeah.” She tried to continue, uncertain of how to. She could talk about the kindness Bastien had showed her, of his nervousness when he asked, but with Emmett fresh on Phoebe’s brain she imagined it probably wasn’t the time. and you're the only one who's hands drip red. the real war rages in your heart; it always has.