b e x l e y
zeus acts as zeus ordains. do you think the gods ignore a man who steps on holy things?
B
exley wonders what they would look like painted.It would make for a good piece in oils. The silvery sheen of the lazy rain, how the hovering axe makes a foggy kind of light against the cold, and how their silhouettes stand strong against the backdrop of the sleepy court. Smudgy and saturated with all the colors of the earth and sky. The glow between them gilds the lines of this girl’s pretty face, and as Bexley watches her, a kind of nervous warmth builds against her chest and seeps into her stomach. Her pulse picks up a little.
What a long time it has been.
I won’t melt, the stranger says, and she smiles her own sheepish kind of smile. The softness of it is unfamiliar. It fits like a piece of clothing she hasn’t worn in a long, long time. But for some reason she is not as embarrassed as she should be. There is no hiding here, in the empty, open streets, and no reason to hide, anyway: Bexley thinks that, of all people, she wants this one to really see her. Look. Look.
She watches the strands of hair fall from Antiope’s buns and oh, how can such a simple gesture be so utterly perfect, so disarmingly pretty? Just her movement throws Bexley off. Just the way she smiles, beautiful and dangerous. Just the way she blinks, how her lashes beat so dark and thick and sure against her cheeks. Very little can keep me from what I desire, she says, and—
Solterra’s golden girl has never been the kind to ignore her own wants, nor the kind to plan ahead, and so she can hardly be disappointed that she finds herself moving yet another step forward without even really thinking about it.
Can hardly be disappointed that now there is even less separating them, and from here she can see each individual stripe across the stranger’s fine-boned face. Can hardly be disappointed in the way her whole body buzzes with warmth like a warning, like a wanting. “There was a commotion this morning. I thought—I heard something was happening to night. And I’m not quite the type to leave my desires untouched, either.”
Her breath holds in her chest unwittingly; the gleam of her eyes and the sweet darkness of her voice could be a predator’s.
@Antiope | "speaks" | notes: <3
