BEXLEY BRIAR
Although Bexley’s experience in the Night Court is limited at best, and although she often feels pent up by rooms like this, dark, cold, no sun or sand to touch - here she is somehow still in her element, not overwhelmed or unconfident. Exhilaration is a live thing moving in her blood. Though she watches Reich calmly, clearly, she shifts as she looks, narrow hips swaying imperceptibly, curls jumping as she attempts to contain her cheerfulness. Reichenbach - her friend!
And Raglan. Whoever he is.
Sweet Solis, indeed, it was mighty sweet of him to give the world someone as dazzling as yourse-- Bexley smirks and tilts her head at him with an innocent blink, as though she’s listening intently, though it’s obvious her mind is already made up: he’s amusing, but not impressive. If he knew anything about her, he would be pleased at that. With easy grace she watches him take that single step forward and raises a brow but says nothing, a look of amusement cool across her face, having never been a girl to back down, to lose any ground. Besides that, she is sure he will do nothing but attempt to charm her, surely won’t try anything stupid in front of Reich. Let them play this game. It’s been long enough since she’s had any fun.
Within a moment, though, she is distracted by her conversation with the sovereign. They lean toward each other, the exchange of whispers calm and quiet; Bexley’s blue eyes watch with intensity for a reaction when Florentine’s name escapes her lips, and she is not disappointed. From a distance it would be imperceptible, but swaying mere inches from Reich’s handsome face it is evident that something within him startles, bucks and awakens. Like lightning in the desert - that obvious. A sick thud echoes in Bexley’s chest. Jealousy? Pity? Regret? Most likely a mix of all three; though her heart is pounding too loud against her ribs, she does not flinch, does not waver, does not look away.
This is all so unfair. Love - so stupid and so irrepressible. She cannot blame them for wanting each other, just as she cannot blame herself for falling into the middle of it. But seeing the war that crosses Reichenbach’s face makes her, for a moment, feel so incomprehensibly guilty that the world clouds and goes quiet and black, for it is impossible to understand what would possess the gods to punish them like this.
And?
And I’m sorry, she responds instantly. It’s too loud - loud enough for Raglan to hear - and as she says it shame fills those azure eyes, flushes heat to her cheeks, yet her voice is sure, is genuine, reverent. Breath heavy, she sways slightly on her feet. Guilt-guilt-guilt pulses through her body. Softer: I left, and she blinks at him, hoping that this will make sense, that she won’t have to explain it all over again, the tryst, the sheer idiocy, the regret that has been germinating in her brain for days on days, knowing this was something she should have thought about more, should have been more careful about. It’s hard enough to think about - harder to say. Gently she touches her lips to his cheek, then withdraws.
With immense effort, Bex plasters on another grin and turns to face Raglan, blonde curls brushing on accident against Reich’s legs with the sudden movement. Silvertongue, echoes the Solterran with no small amount of mirth. Gold teeth, too? She bares her own teeth in a smile, swaying toward hm in one, two long strides, utterly too bright to belong her, and not caring at all. Any other hotshot titles?
Despite the smile, the energy, the happiness that comes off her like sunlight in the summer, her brain still buzzes with a subtle horror: Reich does not deserve the hurt she has just gifted him. An anxious glance is flicked over her shoulder back at the Sovereign, but in the dim light it’s impossible to be certain what he’s thinking.
@reichenbach @
