b e x l e y
MADE A GRAVEYARD FROM THE BONE-WHITE AFTERNOON.
She has always been vividly righteous, since her first breaths as a little girl - it might be the curse of her family or simply Bexley’s own brand of revenge as a religion, but there has not been a time she has let her enemies escape unscathed or her reputation go tarnished, and Gods-be-damned if she’ll start now -
But it’s strange to look at her sister and feel fire taken over what was previously only an affectionate warmth. Now her heart simmers with anger, her nerves spark electric-wild. Bexley’s own azure gaze narrows in the bright sunlight, cast part in shadow by a layer of dark lashes, and she meets Rhoswen’s eyes with a blazing, terrible indecision, unsure how to reconcile with the emotions that war deep within her stomach. Anger, want, sorrow. If only there was some way to rewind the months that had passed, to cleave the scar from her face as easily as someone could peel the petal from a flower. If only -
I’m just really fucking sorry. For everything.
If only it were that easy. If only Bex could find a way to swallow that apology that wouldn’t make her feel sick on the way down. If only - her breath hitches in her chest, her nostrils flare, she grinds her teeth until her pulse blooms in her jaw with stunning loudness. What do you want, she says softly, voice almost carried away in the silver wind, and the hard look in her eyes is briefly replaced by something vulnerable and genuinely hurt. What are you expecting to happen?
She doesn’t want to put words to it - what Rhoswen might be angling for - because what if she’s wrong? What happens then?
@rhoswen <3
