" WORKED HER WAY THROUGH A CHEAP PACK OF CIGARETTES, HARD LIQUOR MIXED WITH A BIT OF INTELLECT "
It's been quite a while since Bexley was this close to the ocean. It doesn't call to her in the way she knows it does to others; she's more of a forest girl, a mountain, maybe, to stand on top of and be seen by everyone. The sea is unpredictable, and Bexley much prefers to be the only wild card in any given room. No matter. She's here, and it's not as awful as it could be, because the sun is shining to save her from freezing her ass off, and it doesn't stink quite as much as she expected, probably because she's keeping a smart distance from the actual shore. Instead she perches on a nearby collection of rocks as far as she can stay from the actual sand and water. Still, salt flecks her auburn eyelashes, and she can feel it turning the fat white curls of her mane and tail to probably twice their expected size.
Just her luck, turning up here. Her instantly forgotten homeland a fast-but-dangerous cross over beaches many miles down. It was difficult, sure, but quicker than anything else, and if Bexley can be credited with two things, they're impatience and overconfidence. She grins to herself just a little. Impatient, overconfident, and ready for anything. She hasn’t heard much about Novus - just that it’s been recently resettled, translation, rife with opportunity - but regardless of what it’s really like, Bexley has an unshakeable confidence that within the next two years she’s going to be well known. Celebrity status, household name famous. What else is she made for? With this body and the strange, unshakeable, thirst for recognition just barely contained inside of it?
Bexley knows. It doesn’t matter where she is, who she meets, what drama will inevitably follow her around. Doesn’t matter that the water all around her is incessantly cold and loud and that she’s on her own now, really on her own for the first time in her life - at that the chain around her neck seems to tingle - Bexley is here and she’s real, and she’s going to make good on all the promises she’s told herself.
@Reichenbach this is SO ROUGH i'm sorry but <333 and thank you this table is beautiful i love the gif!
" i feel so much
that it is hard
for me at times
to feel anything
at all "
The inevitable draw of the ocean had brought him back here, the pull of the waves tugging on his ribs until he had finally ceded to the demand and returned to the Terminus. Salt and brine caught in the back of his throat as he approached, ebony curls bouncing silkily with each step. The wind was not so savage at the cliff top this time - not enough to snatch and grab at his hair or sting his abyssal eyes, but calm and serene, almost heavy. Salt stung the air along with the weighty scent of old seaweed and damp sand, providing a lungful of ocean with each breath.
Earth and sand pressed damply underneath his heavy hooves as he made his way slowly down the treacherous cliff path, long ebony lashes lowered against the occasional rush of salt-ridden breeze - it was why he didn't see her instantly, why his eyes started from the line of her flawless legs and slowly, slowly trailed up to her mercilessly long lashed eyes. He gazed for a moment, lost in the picture of gold and ivory against a backdrop of blue, gathering his thoughts like shadows around him before blinking... once, twice.
A broad grin slipped onto his handsome features, spreading his black lips wide and revealing bone white teeth. He'd never seen her before, and though her own delicate, stunning face reflected chaos and arrogance, Reich knew he wouldn't soon forget the picture of her splattered across his eyes. She did not shine with wild, untamed beauty but instead glowed with a feminine power, like she knew men fell to their knees before her, like she had talons and teeth to hide the real weapon beneath. He wanted her and did not want her all at once, so he strode toward her, all rippling muscle and bouncing curls.
What comes next is so strange that Bexley notices instantly. She inhales - another one of those deep breaths her mother used to talk about, control your temper, sweetheart! - and, behind the salt and brine and the cold scent of the wind, which is a note of its own, is something else smoky and hard and alive that Bexley does not know yet is the smell of the Night court. She freezes against it. An intrusion. Although can it really be called that in such a public place? Does she even have any right to be here, to act like the ocean is her own?
No matter. Bexley steels herself and turns.
Ah! Her worries were unfounded; the man coming up the slope towards is the definition of dark and handsome, which means Bex will be entirely in her element, as well as in good company. HIs eyes are a strange, space-deep silver and Bexley meets them calmly, drinking in the muscles that line his body, the white diamond that blazes over his forehead, catching the familiar wink of warm gold buried somewhere in his hair. Her own necklace seems to heat in response. She tilts her head, letting the whiteish curls fall to one side, and smiles at the look on his face. Something regal, romantic, almost, made even more alluring by the blackness of his body against such a blue sky. Considering a swim? Bexley’s bones rattle.
“Only if you are,” she offers. Half a smirk - one that doesn’t bother to mask her curiosity - plays over Bexley’s bone-white lips as she watches him, the waterfall of hair, the slice of bright, smiling teeth. “Maybe you could show me around. I’m assuming you’re not quite as new as I am.” It's half a test, half a real need to be helped. What can he offer her?
" i feel so much
that it is hard
for me at times
to feel anything
at all "
Reichenbach noted the predatory tilt of her head instantly and felt a cool brush of unease run through him - probably the most sensible reaction a man could have when facing a hurricane like Bexley. His mouth twitched into a small smile at her rebuttal, his silver gaze considering and bright. He stepped a little closer, the memory of her voice lingering and sticky -
"I suppose I could... It would depend on what you want to see" he paused, adding "Born and raised in Novus" with a charming smile, his argent stare so vibrant and alive that it brightened the world around them.
He stepped closer again, then past her, looking back at her to ensure she followed as he trod slowly down the beach, his black hair gleaming in the brilliant sunshine. "I'm Reichenbach," he gave a shake of his great head, looking sideways at her with mirth "Night Court." The ocean grumbled its agreement, the sun flashing off of the water dazzlingly.
"And you? Strange, fiery woman of gold and sass, where do you call home now?"
There is something between them that Bexley can already feel. This man is her equal, or almost, and the idea of having that - an equal - is so intoxicating that for half a moment the blonde sways on her feet, loses her equilibrium, the sharp corners of her brain going soft with affection. Idiot! she thinks happily. Her suitor’s eyes are still flashing like quicksilver in the dry sunlight. She watches him intently, her gaze inscrutable, but the muscles of her delicate body relaxing as if in direct response to the easy smile that flashes over his face. For a moment her apprehensions about Novus disappear and are easily, entirely replaced by a genuine curiosity.
“I suppose I could... It would depend on what you want to see. Bexley knows better than to assume they’re operating on the same wavelength, but she can’t help a spark of hope that he means it the way she’s taking it - an extended invitation, an alliance, not a hit and run. Born and raised in Novus. “Ah,” Bex smiles, “A local, I should have known.” She leaves it at that, choosing to watch in an uncharacteristic silence as he brushes against her, then past. She can pick out a slick of red underneath the black of his skin; it’s alluring to know that there’s something underneath. Her head cranes to follow him as he walks, but she doesn’t turn and follow until a few moments after she knows she’s supposed to, eventually trailing at a slow, self-assured pace well behind him.
“Day,” Bexley answers him simply. There’s nothing else to say about it - her fellow court members don’t exactly have the best impression of her, nor she of them, meaning Bexley has been loathe to return since their first meeting, preferring instead to wander the unclaimed lands in search of likeminded people, regardless of their courts. Reichenbach, for instance. A perfect example of the company she hasn’t yet found at home. “My name is Bexley, by the way - “ She springs forward to land at his side, almost comically petite next to the huge blackness of his body, but unfazed by it - “In case you were ever going to ask.” She gives him a sideways glance full of amusement and stretches those slender legs to match his pace. The moment is languid, sugary, slung with crystals of sweet yellow light; Bexley slides into it like an otter into water, perfectly at home in the company of a stranger as long as the sun continues to shine.
" i feel so much
that it is hard
for me at times
to feel anything
at all "
"Bexley..." Reichenbach tasted the name in his mouth, rolling it over his tongue curiously. After a moment of doing so (brows furrowed, a considering glaze covering his rugged face) he looked down at her and grinned, feeling comfortable despite their lack of knowledge about one another. Day Court - a part of Maxence's regime? He looked pointedly at her slender legs, the delicate line of her shoulders, the clean, crisp smile she gave him. He loathed to think of her on a battlefield, facing off against the worst this world had to give, coated in blood - both hers and others. Still... despite having only known her for these past moments, Reichenbach felt Bexley could have taken on the world and won - there were other ways to win wars, after all.
She was slick and sly and cunning - she was wrath and secrets and spying. Perhaps Day did suit her. "If you weren't born here, how was it you found Novus?" a pause "and how did you come to live in Solterra?" He had travelled, had seen other parts of the world, and always, always, he found Denocte to be the place he belonged. There were many majesties in the world, but it was the Night Court that had his loyalty and his heart. He smiled, a genuine, pleased thing, and tossed his ebony curls out of his face absentmindedly, sending the scent of woodsmoke and night jasmine tumbling toward the ocean with the wind.
Their slow meander continued, Reich occasionally sneaking a glance down at his delightful companion. Perhaps they were not meant to be partners - in the romantic sense - but maybe... maybe Bexley would earn a place as his friend and confidant. His gaze slipped to her own, lingering on the mischief and intelligence that pooled there, subtly wishing she had chosen his court - she'd have made an excellent spy.
Her name in his mouth is something hungry and awe-inspiring; Bexley’s steps might have faltered, if she was a lesser being, but as things are she gives him half a smirk and leaves it at that. The grin she receives in return is genuine and comfortable. It’s strange that Bexley is so relaxed. Usually she would be hyperaware of Reichenbach’s mouth and his movements and the tone of his voice, what she should be doing to move forward, to gain something from this, to twist him to her will - instead she finds herself easily in step beside him, not trusting, not exactly, but with something like respect already. It’s an uncommon thing.
If you weren't born here, how was it you found Novus? The bullet of Bexley’s heart misfires, then ricochets. Her jaw tightens. In her head emerges the grisly image of bleached bone and behind it a carmine splash of gore, one Briar-blue eye, the smell of flesh rotting. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, but leaves a residue that she knows she will never exactly be rid of. Her necklace goes suddenly hot. She inhales deeply, takes a careful step, lets all her teeth show as she talks in some mockery of a smile - “Oh, you know. Typical runaway story. Disgraced queen-to-be and all of that, but.” The smile spreads, one of genuine humor this time, thinking of how much she’s neglecting to mention. “I don’t miss it anyway. Solterra? i - “
A minute pause steals into Bexley’s voice. It’s impossible to decide how much she should be sharing - he’s a man, but a nice one - a stranger, but a kind one - a horrifying mixture of what Bexley hates, then adores. She searches his face. And of course she can’t know, not really, but she has a feeling about him, an instinct that tells her to say yes, to give in to the idea that they could grow to be friends, grow into a world where Bexley wouldn’t have to think so much about what comes out of her mouth, wouldn’t have to calculate every breath and movement, a tiny space for her to be sincere in.
“I love the sun,” she says finally. Her voice reverberates with a genuine wistfulness, the first hint of something warm, even affectionate, that has crossed her lips in quite a while. She turns to look at Reich and grins. “Always have. The Court itself doesn't matter to me. I don’t care about Maxence, I don’t care about anyone that lives there, they don’t have to like me. I care about the sun. And summer and beaches and the shortest nights possible. That’s what matters to me - light.”
Satisfied, she lapses into silence. For a moment there is only the smell of the ocean stealing towards them, the comforting warmth of a body at her side, and a warm, childish satisfaction that hums, like the huge sound of honeybees, in Bexley’s chest. “Let me guess,” she says suddenly. “Day and Night. Are we supposed to be enemies? Not that I'd know anything about it.” A laugh bubbles from deep in her throat; she bumps her slender shoulder against his side affectionately, then sidles ahead, curls bouncing, a good mood flaming across her skin like the sunlight she cares so deeply for.
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