gold is the hand you press to her hip
oh darling,
Perhaps a bit wary in the sunlight, Rexanna brings her parasol, ensuring any of the light from the day can’t get to her despite growing stronger (“My money’s on Deimos.” She comments with a slight smirk, shifting the parasol and her hood just enough to not move the gilded flower crown she wears, turning her attention back to the sparring match, she can’t help but to keep that entertained smile along her face.
you'd even bleed preciously
REXANNA