Now we’re both casualties in this

Thunder cracked overhead, a sharp abrupt sound as though hundreds of lights burst at once. It was enough to cause the Thief to flinch mere seconds after it happened. Each time, she found herself expelling the breath she had so sharply inhaled. Rexanna knew it was just turning to Orangemoon, but there was something different about this storm. It felt more violent, more intense and brutal with every strike of lightning. She had avoided the trail of strikes, doing her best to keep out of the way of nature’s unrelenting anger. Even though she missed the strikes, they came close to her and Marembo, but instead of leaving burned flesh in place of her golden dappled hide, it came with a torrent of rain. Soon, the two were heaping masses of flesh, bone, and water. Dripping everywhere they went, containing the water that fell upon them nearly everywhere they went. It turned Marembo’s pelt into a mix of bronze and black, his once fluffy tail seeming more like a flat rat’s tail as it mopped around Rexanna’s own drenched withers. It had turned the pale golden mare into a darker cream with a dark goldenrod blanket that draped across her back. Her mane had turned easily into a heap of grays and blacks, mimicking the look of already having running mascara along her face – even though the black didn’t run further, it stayed as a sticky black mess across her face.

Every step she took, the golden chains she wore dripped with water, as if it were a cascading waterfall with every twitch and movement. It made the little chains feel heavier, weighed upon her back harshly in both physical and emotional forms. She had grown used to wearing the chains again, but it still didn’t keep her from remembering the prison it had put her into before crossing Helovia’s borders. The feeling of the chains was something ingrained into her, something she’d never forget even if she didn’t wear them. And instead of leaving them for someone else, perhaps someone who was lucky enough to not have been a bird trapped in an elegant golden cage, she couldn’t bear the idea of seeing someone else wear such a thing. And so she kept them, draped across her back from head to tail. Just one of the many gifts from the Blood Prince in her lifetime. Except this time, it was paired with the dark ebony “C” etched into her flesh and scarred over on her chest, a brand for him among the other gifts he had given her. It was new, though, as Calstron found himself in Helovia. The feeling stirred itself in the Thief’s chest, always reminding her that he might be around every corner. His orange orbs waiting for the chance to strike out against the golden harlot that he had somehow loved despite the things that Rexanna had apparently done to him.

All of her being would’ve been prepared to see him around the next corner she took, but she wasn’t prepared for what she found. The lightning crackled and thunder roared, giving the Thief a slight sight of a familiar figure as she made her way into the heart caves – seeking refuge from the wild storm outside. Her chest began to beat harder, a pounding feeling with the sound of the rush of blood. Immediately, her and Marembo diverted their course, aimed straight for the gold that lay upon the earth in a heap of his own tremors. Oceanic eyes grew wide and despite the extra heaviness she felt with the chains and the water that drenched her coat, she picked up her pace. Immediately, Marembo alerted her to Haldir’s presence. Rexanna turned her head to spot the cerndyr in his frustration, standing nearby the gold that lay in his own cage of memories and nightmares. “Haldir?” It was barely above a whisper – it had been so long since she had seen the duo she couldn’t be sure, but something in her tugged her toward the Laurelin. Perhaps to be sure it was Thranduil, maybe also to be sure he wasn’t dying before her eyes.

Marembo slid down the leg of the Thief, a little wet mop of a polecat as he rushed over to the cerndyr, aiming his tiny black paws to gently touch Haldir, as if to do his best to calm him while Rexanna moved and hovered above Thranduil. Her head lowered, dark cream of a muzzle reaching down into the soaked pelt of burnt gold. She pressed into him then, realizing shortly after that the gentle means of her approach wasn’t going to wake him. Her brows furrowed, gaze growing narrow and sharp. “Thranduil, wake up!” She began, not exactly a shout but an attempt at first. She began to nudge him more, aiming for his neck and moving over to the side along his back to avoid being kicked. She nudged his withers for a few seconds before the worry began to billow from her breast. “WAKE UP.” She shouted at him, but it was drowned out by the cracks of lightning outside. Lifting her head, she let her gaze look up into the roof of the caverns, then to the walls to wonder how much room she had to work with. It was then, she did her best to try and wake the Laurelin. She grew silent, but focused her magic. It grew as a fire within her, bursting from her golden spiraled horn like a flare. It was a crack among the air that seemed to split across the caves, echoing and bouncing from cavern to cavern. The firework shot across the air like a bullet, a sparkle of reds and oranges emitted bright and flickering before it died out.

And now, her attention was entirely on Thranduil in the hopes that perhaps something had worked, while Marembo did his best in his tiny glory to soothe Haldir.

"Talk."

Every kiss and every word—

They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips.

Rexanna