BEXLEY BRIAR
Adrenaline floods Bexley’s nerves with unexpected force; though her posture is so stiff it could be statuesque, inside she feels tumultuous, overwhelmed, as if each organ is shifting, her muscles rearranging themselves, even her coat standing on end. With wide eyes she watches Florentine, bristling and viscid. A brief, hot breeze blows by, and the only part of Bexley that moves is her hair, silver curls bumping against slender shoulders, against the gentle curve of her ribs, shifting, tumbling, while the rest of her stays painfully still, as if Solis Himself could not have convinced her to move.
Then comes Florentine’s reaction - that quick exhale rent with sadness, her eyes fluttering closed, as if only Bexley’s voice, snarling those hastily chosen words, has broken her completely - and her stillness is shredded, though almost imperceptibly, by the tick under her skin that betrays she is grinding her teeth. It’s impossible to understand whether she is still angry or only, now, regretful. Even Bexley, who has always been overconfident, self-assured, knowledgeable in her matters of the heart and mind, is struggling to put a name to her feelings, or an end to her cruelty. Why should Florentine not suffer, for stringing her along? Why should Reichenbach not be punished, for making promises to someone so unattainable? Why has Bexley been forced to ache in their stead.
Later, when her head clears, perhaps she will realize they are all victims of circumstance; now, blazing with emotion, it does not even occur to her.
They are at odds now, both upset, both cheated of their wants, and now that the emissary has uncovered her rage, they are two fires, two unstable elements, becoming teeth and claws and incarnate; it’s strange to see that Florentine is so affected by just the name of her love, her disposition changed completely with just a few cutting statements against him. What has made the fairy suddenly so volatile? True love - Bex would gag, but it seems juvenile even for her.
Bexley is, quite abruptly, humbled by the sight of tears drawing their lines down Florentine’s cheek; she has to fight the urge to wipe them away. They’re horrible to look at, not only a reminder of the Solterran’s fault, but of the fact that Reichenbach is what has so effected Florentine, cementing Bexley’s revulsion of the entire situation. Still a common denominator connects them - feelings that erupt too fast and too forcefully. The thought crosses her mind that they are both fools.
What is so terrible about Reichenbach?
What is so terrible about Reichenbach…
Bexley is stunned out of her breath. What is so terrible about Reichenbach. Her mind whirls, races, overturns. Her body flames with sensation. There is only one way to answer, only one thing to say -
Nothing, comes that answer, soft and embittered, so hard it could cut. Bexley’s eyes shine feverishly. The only terrible part is that he will never be able to love you, and now, neither will I.
The breath she takes in is gritty and painful, lacking in oxygen, yet still she stands, swaying only just barely.
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