Now we’re both casualties in this

There was something that just didn’t seem right. Rexanna couldn’t tell if it was the fact she had just abruptly woken Thranduil and he was still adjusting, or if something was seriously wrong. Instead, she turned her gaze back toward the golden man as he stuttered, speaking words that made little sense to the Thief. Her brows furrowed as he spoke, thinking that he had died, or that he did, but did it really matter? He wasn’t dead, that much was enough for Rexanna as she looked him over quickly with bright blue eyes filled with worry that creased the sleepless lines of her exotic marred face. She didn’t miss the flinch that occurred in his body, her eyes narrowing in on him as he looked away. She found a frown cross her lips and turned her own face away, surveying the cavern as he tried to put himself together. The only sound was the thunder and rain roaring outside, paired with the drips of water as they fell from her onto the earthen floor.

Marembo found himself pleased, but worried all the same, when Haldir knelt down beside him. His bright beady eyes searching for the moonlit eyes of the cerndyr with a tiny squeak, as if he wanted to say it’d be okay. A small tuft for an ear flickered toward the other companion as he found himself press his snake-like body gently into Haldir, his little black paws still gently pressing onto his new found friend. Thankful that he was alright, as well as being a kind companion, unlike the ones his bonded’s children had.

Rexanna felt Thranduil’s eyes on her for a few moments, but she continued to look away. Part of her didn’t want to look back at him with the distant look in his eye. It wasn’t the Thranduil she remembered, it wasn’t the one that was kept in her heart as a strong defiant source, it wasn’t the one that sparked such controversy at her first herd meeting when he had been named a king. Part of that hurt, it hurt because even though she didn’t know where he went or why he left in the first place, she wanted him to be okay. It was obvious to her that he wasn’t. And it was uncomfortable, a seething burning sensation in the bottom of her stomach.

However, when his head lifted up she finally turned to look at him. Her dual toned mane dripping water as she let her gaze survey him once more – doing her best to avoid his eyes for the fear of what she might find. So instead, she focused on the ivory leaf marking on his forehead, ears perked and tipped toward him to give him full attention, even if her heart didn’t bear her to. “It changed! It-” Her brows furrowed, her heart longing for him and wishing to remove whatever pain seemed to stunt the thoughts of the one person who seemed to have something to say after everything. “Why did you do that?” Her head lowered ever so slightly, her gaze drifting to the ground where marks had been left of both sweat and scrapes from Thranduil’s horn in his moments of turmoil.

She wanted to tell him that she didn’t know why she did it. That she just felt the need to. She had already told him she thought he was dying. What more could she say? She apologized, acknowledged her actions, and it still pained her as his words echoed in her mind. Perhaps she felt a similar pain beneath her chest as he had, without realizing it. It dripped from his voice and she yearned for him. She wanted to console him, to let him melt into her and express whatever pain he was feeling. She wanted to take it from him and mold him into the man she thought he was, the one she remembered. Life was difficult and unfair, though. And despite all the hardships Rexanna had been dealt through her life, she still hadn’t learned to let it not bother her.

After a few moments of silence, she allowed her gaze to wash over him one more time. “You were hurting yourself. I’m sorry.” Her voice held defeat, as if she recognized the mistake she had made. But there was sympathy mixed into it, remembering the terrors she had before Helovia and the means of which she found herself in when she’d wake. With that in mind, she reached out her pale muzzle, aiming to gently touch Thranduil’s golden shoulder in her own attempts at comfort. Maybe it was foolish of her, but she wanted him to know that she didn’t want him to be alone with whatever problems he was facing. She didn’t want him to be like she had, lost and alone to suffer and dwell on past mistakes. “I was worried about you.” Her voice was soft, yet it still cracked with honesty, and it dripped with truth.

"Talk."

Every kiss and every word—

They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips.

Rexanna