REXANNA
Her weaving is starting to take form into the semblance of a basket, and for that she could almost sigh a bit in relief – she doesn’t, as she focuses on Amun and the question poised, of whether the goddess might be able to fix it like she had her eyes, like she had Samuel’s fingers. At least Amun losing his hand was far more likely than their stupidity for going out over LongNight and sticking hands and bodies in places they should not have been.
But the Voice hasn’t answered his prayers yet, and she nods in understanding to that too. “Maybe she’ll come when we finish the shrine and you can ask her then.” She muses thoughtfully. Still, she lets the conversation shift and die as she focuses on his question. “Ah, it hasn’t been so bad. Nobody has started a fight yet in the council, and so far nobody has asked me to step down so I think I’m doing something alright with it.” There’s a hint of a smile along her face.
“Did you want to be the Outlander advisor?” She asks, looking over to him with a dark brow. Wondering if he’d thought about it and pined for it, or whether something had prompted it.
But the Voice hasn’t answered his prayers yet, and she nods in understanding to that too. “Maybe she’ll come when we finish the shrine and you can ask her then.” She muses thoughtfully. Still, she lets the conversation shift and die as she focuses on his question. “Ah, it hasn’t been so bad. Nobody has started a fight yet in the council, and so far nobody has asked me to step down so I think I’m doing something alright with it.” There’s a hint of a smile along her face.
“Did you want to be the Outlander advisor?” She asks, looking over to him with a dark brow. Wondering if he’d thought about it and pined for it, or whether something had prompted it.
the penumbra
the moon is drunk with the sins of the sun.
& you stare, and wonder why
the universe never loved you back
