and father had had such hopes;

[Bexley]

" BEXLEY BRIAR "

Bexley relaxes into her own steps, sinks all her weight into the sand, lets her narrow hips sway as she keeps pace just in front of the smaller unicorn. Confidence reverberates from her body as strongly as her typical scent of smoke and flowers. She’s in her element again: the desert, in sunlight, with an invisible advantage to hold over him. This is her territory. Shaking the crunch of salt and sweat from her hair, she lapses into a comfortable silence, convinced it will affect him more than anything else she could say (for the moment).

If you hunted it - A brief moment of violence blazes across Bexley’s face as she turns to look at him, sun-bright and overwhelming, but it quickly smooths out into something milder, brows furrowing, her teeth bared at him in a lazy half snarl. Ha ha ha, she deadpans, voice brittle and dangerous. How dare he insult her like that - her, a Day Court champion, a princess, a thing of hidden teeth and nails -she could kick his ass from here to next week. Yeah, like some Dawn Court flower-picker has any room to talk. Don’t insult me, she snaps. Her ears are pressed flat to the back of her head, those fervent blue eyes leveled with annoyance. Nostrils flare as she inhales a gritty, annoyed breath. I have a high tolerance for seeing blood, especially if I’m extracting it from other people.

Jaw grinding, she lets out a loud huff of an exhale and steps ahead of him, widening the gap between them. Idiot. She turns her eyes away from him, trying to calm the rupturing heat in her chest by observing the desert around her, studded with tall bent-backed saguaros and the spiny bodies of agave, sparse but for clumps of yellowed grass and the old, half-shattered tracks of coyotes. Up on the horizon, a brownish blob begins to take shape. It coos and chatters. Bexley chokes on her amusement: a committee of vultures, spread lazily against the cold blue of the sky. 

@charlemagne 

love, space