BEXLEY BRIAR
It’s hardly a moment before another figure shows up, and though Bexley’s eyes do not flicker to catch the movement, she can’t help recognizing the quicksilver flash within seconds - Seraphina. Bex lifts her head slowly, looks the emissary over with a estival blue gaze. For a moment the air between them is silent and viscous. For all her socializing and party habits, Seraphina is the one Solterran body Bexley’s never truly interacted with, and fleetingly she wavers, unsure what to say, how to introduce herself, what to expect of the silver-skinned snake.
Then, regaining her vitality, Bex grins too wide and calls out, Good morning. If Seraphina’s really here to help, what’s the use of being bitter or shy? It’s not in Bexley’s blood anyway, not what comes naturally to her, a girl with a loud voice, a penchant for mischief, an exorbitant need for attention. Yes, she starts on a response, if you could -
Only a moment later does someone else appear, a blue flash from thin air, and before Bexley has a chance to greet him he’s offering to put up the torches, a task taken right from the golden girls’ mouth. Blinking in pleasant surprise, she gestures toward the bank of the oasis: Just line them around the edge of the water - Seraphina, could you put a couple under each palm? There are shallow dips she’s cut into the sand where each torch is to be placed, spaced equidistant around the edge of the pond, and Seraphina must be able to handle stamping them down near each tree. With one dished hoof she rolls the pile of torches toward her comrades and flashes them a semi-grateful smile.
At Vadim’s appearance, she stiffens slightly, recalling their last discussion; but he approaches with surprising enthusiasm and an excitement that is painfully, childishly genuine, and Bexley can’t help smiling back at him, surprisingly enchanted by the sight of a friendly face. Help me hang these? She picks up a wreath of wire lined with desert flowers, glassy pebbles, the gray-green leaves of dried-out succulents, and offers one to him almost shyly. Wherever you can fit them, the trees, the boulders.
ayyoo @vadim @
