BEXLEY BRIAR
Well, you look like the sun kissed you.
Bexley blinks in unfettered surprise. Dark lashes drift to touch the rise of her cheekbone; her gaze narrows, meeting Eik’s across the water, and for a moment she looks almost suspicious, as if she’s not quite willing to take the compliment, before an insubstantial smile crosses her face and the guardedness in her eyes falls away slightly. What a long time it’s been since a compliment struck her like that - despite her best efforts, a subtle, pleased warmth blooms in her chest, and Bex grins at him. She drops her head to chest for a moment and pushes a silver curl back from her face, laces it behind her ear again before looking up.
A moment passes before the next question comes, and Bexley takes it in stride as much as she can, which is not much at all. She shivers slightly at the remembering. Where is she from… that’s a trauma she hasn’t faced for weeks, even months. You wouldn’t know it. That much is true - Greer-Briar remains a mystery to most of the civilized world, the island of the Amazons, an all-green paradise almost all untouched. They don’t trade with the outside world or accept visitors; it’s been years since a stranger could safely step foot over the border. The land is beautiful. But it is harsh and unforgiving and it loves the Briars only.
No way in hell Eik would’ve heard about it.
It’s across the ocean, she concedes, half-dreamily. An island, sort of - Greer-Briar - you wouldn’t know it, Bex repeats, then falls silent, wearing an expression that could almost be sheepish. It’s a touchy subject for her, even years later, and difficult to reconcile with - but she’s sure that Eik must have something to hide, that almost everyone does, and she doesn’t feel quite as bad as she might have. Even the mention of Maxence doesn’t make her feel as horrible as it might have, so distracted is she by, for once, being in company that makes her feel comfortable. An asshole, she answers succintly.
It’s a harsh reaction, but truthful; a sly smile has cut into her cheeks. I mean - a great warrior, and leader, but an asshole, sometimes. An acquired personality. Of course, not to speak ill of the dead. It’s bitingly sarcastic. What do the dead know of what is said after they die - what do they hear with their ears full of dirt? Maxence, especially, does not beg to be revered. Or at least, he didn’t.
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