LILY
oh, cover your crystal eyes
and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
She is the last to arrive, moving more slowly than she usually does, but hell bent on showing up, despite her exhaustion and trembling hands (that misstep on those piano keys and write jagged, unkempt notes instead of beautiful, dainty lines) and general feeling of irritability that has replaced the feeling of hopelessness.
For Rexanna, though, she would do quite a lot. After all, she lured the woman into an orgy. How does one begin to repay that kind of assistance?
Though three of them haven’t seen her in awhile and the fourth, a complete stranger who’s never met her at all, the difference in the ‘before’ and ‘after’ in Lily’s blight progression might be striking. Where she was luminously white, she is now a sickly pale, dark circles under green eyes that still flash - but no longer with delight (it’s anger, now, often uncontrollable - just ask the many shattered tea cups on her hearth). She’s lost weight; a bountiful chest still rises from her waist, but the frame on which is hangs seems less welcoming, less curvaceous, less filled with light. The fire that once lived in the entertainer’s wreath of thick, red hair is dim and flickering dangerously in the blight-wind. She is half of what she used to be.
Yet she is here, wrapped though she is in what seems like layers upon layers.
The redhead slips into the house, catching Remi’s imitation of Bastien and manages a chuckle. How he scored Rex would forever be a mystery. Stepping up to Deimos’s side, she reaches out to touch the mountain of a man at the elbow and offers a small, quiet smile. She says nothing, but her presence as the warrior asks what needs to be done should say enough.
