 WE HOPE THAT YOU CHOKE
THAT YOU CHOKE
To hear that her wounds were healing gave him a slight reassurance that what they had done wasn't completely ridiculous and achievable. Perhaps, deep down, Maxence owrried that he had only survived by luck, a fluke, and little to no measure of what he had assumed was expertise. The fact that everyone had actually survived was one thing to be proud of, but the fact that he had struck the killing blow had given him more than enough to puff his chest about. Had it really been dumb luck though? Solis's grace? Perhaps Maxence didn't wish it to be either; it would mean it wasn't raw talent that won the battle. It wasn't his victory.
"My spine is still thoroughly fucked, thank you" was his response when she in return asked how his wounds were, eyeing the sleek hair fall upon her neck as she reached down to pluck another flower from the earth beneath them. It then came upon him that all e had done so far was mutter and whinge, so quickly he would attempt to make himself useful. Spotting a white flower attached to bright rounded leaves, the king marched up and plucked it from it's stem's reach. "Here's one" he then murmured, stepping back the way he had come and offering it to the palomino. "How many do we even need?" He sighed, wishing he could be sparring or just anything other than flower picking. He would admit to himself, though, that he did like spending time with Bexley. AND YOU CAN LAUGH
A SPINELESS LAUGH
WE HOPE THAT YOU CHOKE
THAT YOU CHOKE
✝
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