![[Image: 500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png]](http://orig02.deviantart.net/75f6/f/2017/192/d/5/500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png)
" BEXLEY BRIAR "
At the mention of her rank, Bexley stops short, calculating. Day Court is filled with warriors, and Inkheart might well be one of them, especially since she’s already proven herself to be touchy and overconfident, following perfectly in the footsteps of the other fighters of her court. Will she lose points for not carrying a spear? For wielding words more harshly than he does her own body? Her eyes, in a sideways cast, catch Inkheart’s and flicker sharply.
Vicious for sure, but not a warrior. She raises an eyebrow drily. Her Day-Court conversations have started to feel repetitive; have not tens of strangers assumed she was a warrior, acted out in surprise when she said no, leaving her stranded, uncomfortable, knowing that there’s so much expected of her she’ll never be able to live up to. What warrior stands as short and as slight as she does? With a snort of disgust, just barely audible through the stiff summer air, she shakes her head and attempts to fit into her own skin again. And what are you? Maxence obviously appreciates it, whatever it is.
It’s simple, though somewhat ominous. Bexley’s voice is soft and high-pitched, lilting with the dangerous end of a question. Her eyes shine in the harsh noon light, pits of shining deep blue, pupils thinning as she glances up against the weight of the sun above her head.
@inkheart
