The smell of home - Day Court, downwind - salt and sun breaking through the dusty aura of the all-encompassing sand. Something sharp and electric that could be excitement or apprehension. Bexley ignores it. Instead, she raises that gently carved head of hers, thick lashes squinting against the sun, and stares out until she finds the source of the scent, a girl, her own age. Blessing on legs. Iridescently silvery skin and miles of red curls in a sanguine pantomime of Bexley’s own white hair, her dark gray eyes cold and intriguing, giving off the warm, dangerous aura of someone Bexley wants to be on her good side. There's still a lot of information to be gathered about whoever this really is before any decisions are made, but Bexley is a girl who trusts her intuition, and right now it's lit up warm, like a hundred pink sunsets.
Salutations, darling. Bex tilts her head and grins. They’re going to be good somethings, that’s for sure. Heat is blazing across the dunes, turning Bex’s golden skin liquid, but she ignores it, watching the dangerously feminine lines of her new friend’s face (and body) shift. The whole situation is wildly intriguing. Bexley sidles forward, picking her way carefully through the crimson sand, and sings, “Hi, sweetheart!” Those blonde-red eyelashes are batting now of their own volition; Bex finds herself almost smiling. “I’m Bexley, but you - you can call me whatever you want.”
@rhoswen beauts
