BEXLEY BRIAR
The day is hot, and Bexley watches this girl suffer with inexplicable apathy. Her expression is stone and silver, unbent. A tiny dot perched at the top of a rolling slice of sand, hair moving just barely in the wind, azure eyes narrowed against the oncoming rays of yellow-white light, for many moments she teeters between interest and discomfort, swaying on gently dished hooves from her spot far above the stranger: it’s been quite a while since the Day Court was so disturbed, and despite the feeling that maybe she should help the poor thing, Bex is so also annoyed by her shrieking that she is fighting the urge to turn around and let it waste in the desert.
Solis takes what He likes, and who is Bexley to stop Him?
Yet there is drama waiting here, something the Solterran’s life has been severely lacking, and so as the stranger begins to move, Bexley moves after her, tracking a lazy path on the dunes far above. Separated by hundreds of feet, she watches the girl with a hawklike intensity - sweating and upset, fur too thick to be comfortable in the clawing heat of Solterra, obviously not meant to be here, maybe not even meant to be in Novus. She has the kind of energy Bexley has drained from many other acquaintances, the kind that comes from being new, from being vulnerable, from not understanding anything about this place, a foreigner utterly and completely.
Fresh meat.
With one calculated turn, Bex goes skidding down the slope, sprays of sand arcing from her feet like gold high into the air. Sun glitters off her coat, the stark white of her hair, her tiny porcelain body, everything in direct contrast to the darkness, the heaviness, the strangeness of this new woman. Aw, someone’s lost - this sung in a smoky voice, reverberating, lower than expected, through the dry air. Need some help?
@rhiannon
