BEXLEY BRIAR
It doesn’t matter if he likes her answers. And he obviously doesn’t - the strange, aggravated sheen in his eyes, the tension that lines his body, the lift of his hoof only to stamp it down - but Bexley has given him what he has asked for, the truth, unfettered, and what difference does it make if he’s a little disturbed by it? She was at one time, too.
Don’t thank me, she says, albeit insincerely. It’s basic decency. Not that Bexley has ever been the biggest proprietor of the concept, but there is something that makes her at least feel bad for this man, like she owes him an explanation, a kind of introduction, so his landing here will be a little softer than hers was, cushioned by the knowledge that there is a culture here, a way of life to be respected.
As Bex starts to turn away, she pauses. Something tugs at her chest - as if there is another thing to tell him, more dangers to warn him of - but then she wrinkles her nose and forces herself to ignore it. Good luck, comes that silvery voice, and with that she disappears toward the Day Court, gold melting into gold.
@vadim we out woohoo
