BEXLEY BRIAR
For all her bitterness, Bexley is still good at heart, and that nagging thought in the back of her head is what causes her to seek out the stranger that she’d practically bitten at the Solterran planting job, hoping to right the obnoxiousness of her first impression. She’s sharp, sure - that razor tongue and unabashed confidence has felled many a stranger upon meeting - but usually not so sharp as that day, the poor boy. Upon complaining about the whole thing to Eden, Bexley finally realized how ridiculous it was, her wild overreaction. It seems Maxence brings out the worst in her. And, to her credit, Bex is always better one-on-one than in a group. All this has roused her from her usual afternoon nap to find him and reintroduce herself. Whether the man accepts her apology doesn’t really matter; Bexley will still thrive, as she has been. Only out of the goodness of her heart does she seek out the newcomer.
Following the trail of one of Solterra’s frequent sandstorm, she winds her way over the dunes to the Oasis. It’s only her best guess. Hordes of Solterrans are always found around the lake, bathing or drinking from their homeland’s only source of water, and on a day like this it seems the only natural progression - Bexley herself would have been headed there anyway.
It’s a track she’s traveled many times, and Bex trots across it with a sure step, bleached hooves scraping the dirt, silver-blonde curls bumping against each curve of the princess’ body as she moves. A wild shape does she makes against the smoky sky, confident and quick. The heart of Solterra appears after only a matter of minutes at that rapid pace, and just as she expected, there he is, the pariah - drinking with his head bent to the water, a picture of solicitude under the wavering shadows of the date palms that bend overhead. Bexley grits her teeth. This is not her ideal way to be spending a beautiful afternoon, but now that she’s here, what use is it quitting?
Hi. She sidles up behind him, slowing to a crawl. Bright blue eyes shift to look the man up and down in one quick flash, then still, grazing the horizon as she comes to a stop on the bank. I’m Bexley - usually not as much of a bitch as I look - with that an unamused smile crosses her face, not at all reaching her eyes. Congrats on finding this place.
@vadim <3
