BEXLEY BRIAR
She’s not surprised by the utter tactlessness of his introduction, nor by the flat calmness of the his voice, though still a grim spark of disappointment flares in her chest - quiet and irrepressible. A subtle tilt of those bone-white lips turns her fragmented smile to a frown. His hard at work comment is something of a low blow to be handing her - with the garden done, all the commoner’s job’s have been completed, leaving them with little of urgency to do - but Bexley bites her tongue, for once not in the mood to argue with him. Petty little bastard, says something venomously from the recesses of her brain.
Bex listens to the proposition with little more than a flick of her ear. Her blue eyes are fixed on Maxence with an intense sort of caution, as if she’s really going over the words in her head, and her gaze does not shift from trailing him even as he slips into the Oasis, spraying shards of glassy water that fleck the sand around them . Rannveig. So their prospects are focused on the Dusk Court now… unsurprising considering Solterra’s obvious distaste for Denocte, and their less aggressive but no less disrespectful opinion of those who live in Delumine. Organizing? Sure. A smirk crosses Bexley’s face, wide and obviously self-satisfying as she meets the commander’s gaze. Celebrating, definitely.
Then the simplest questions of all: When and where?
@maxence
