I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill

He spoke of Deimos and Rexanna’s attention was immediately drawn to him. The Reaper didn’t speak much to her, but she tried her best to serve him. She didn’t always do her best, but she at least tried to please him, which was something that she didn’t even know if she had the power to do. He was a shadow, a dark veil over the Basin that seemed to appear, speak little words, and return into the crevices of the mountains and caves. But she was alright with that, in all reality. She admired him, looked up to him even. She imagined him to be that distant fatherly figure that she never really had. He spoke little, but gave her constructive criticism in his mannerisms. That for her, was more than enough. Yet, when Rikyn spoke of the “death touch” her ears swiveled in uncertainty. “I didn’t know that he had that.” She admitted, curiously wondering how it worked and what it meant for him. Did that mean nobody could love him? Hug him? Touch him even? Is that why he stayed so distant? She contemplated the many times she thought about reaching out to him to touch the stone pillar of the Basin and wondering now what had stopped her.

But he continued, and she nodded along, watching his face as he thought. Watching for the movements just barely skin deep. But when he turned to look at her, she caught his beautiful gilded eyes and seemed to stare for a few moments longer. But his demeanor changes, despite the playful atmosphere their companions had willingly tossed across the both of them in their game of hide and seek. She watched and listened, his words growing more serious. Rexanna’s smile began to falter as she nodded along with him, remembering the illnesses of the Rift wars, remembering Tembovu and all his scars, remembering her own self, covered in so much blood that wasn’t even her own. A shiver ran down her spine, sending her chains in a slight swaying moment across her gilded pelt as she pulled her gaze away. A frown crossing her features, causing Marembo to pop his head out briefly to shoot a glance at her as if saying “i’m having fun, why can’t you?”

Her ivory ears flicked and listened to him as his voice reached her ears once again. She began to nod again until his next words struck a mischievous smile to her face. “Do you?” She questioned, setting her gaze upon the ebony stallion once more. “What sort of tricks?” She asked, cocking her head to the side in innocent stupor. The only magic she had really seen had been mostly fire related, and of course Ashamin’s heart spark magic. She was oblivious to the other types of magic that were out there, but was open to learning all the same. Perhaps Rikyn could be a wise teacher to the non-native mare.

As she waited, curiosity peaked as to if he had ever experienced a magic like her own. Turning her head to the sky, she let her gaze fall upon the dappled leaves of the bamboo as they stretched overhead. “Have you ever seen fireworks?” She inquired him, still keeping her face and eyes to the sky. She felt childish in this instance, feeling strange emotions concocted beneath her flesh in ways she hadn’t felt in years. She had been far too busy surrounded by duty and the threat of death to be focused on just stopping and enjoying a good conversation. She knew it meant a lot to her and she also knew it meant far more for Marembo. The polecat was too tiny to be constantly full of frustration and fear in his tiny marbled body that the simple idea of spending an hour playing with Duir billowed excitement from the tiny creature. He enjoyed it all the same, continuing to play hide and seek with Duir, excited to see his hoof pop into the holes. His paws reaching up to touch the cloven toes with excited powerful squeaks as he continued to peer out at him with bright blue eyes.

"Talk."

And like the sea—

I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.

Rexanna