may the waves take you home

Lily sing me a song of a lass that is gone The directions to Lirsi’s home rang like windchimes in her head, the entertainer fairly skipping down streets to her LongNight abode; she felt special, not needing to shelter with the rest of the Grounders. She’d been clever, she’d thought ahead. And there was the added bonus of Lirsi being the adorable kind of half-punk redhead, to which Lily thinks jokingly about her redheaded harem slowly, slowly growing: Melita, Evie, Lily herself, and now Lirsi. They’ll have to commandeer that Arialla girl soon - and maybe Ianto, if he ever shows up again. She arrives at the place matching the number and description and Lily knocks - but no one answers. She knocks again, calling out to the girl - but no one answers. Trying the door, she finds it unlocked and pushes inside. The interior is surprisingly dark, perhaps a little musty, as if no one had been there in at least a week. She frowns. There’s a piece of paper on the table, some fruit pits in the sink; the pale woman goes even more pale if possible - this isn’t right. With trembling hands, she reaches for the folded piece of paper and reads what’s written there. If you're finding this, it means I'm not here. Dunno what happened to me, but something definitely happened. Whoever's picked up the note, I've got three things to tell you: 1. The house is now yours. 2. Underneath the fourteenth floorboard in the main room are some highly valuable items that I've smuggled home with me. 3. If you go into the basement, there's a small chest of high quality fabrics. I was saving those for a rainy day. Take care of the house, and don't mourn me! I probably deserved whatever happened. Love, L Lily sinks down into the chair to digest the information, hot tears pooling at the corner of her eyes, eventually trickling downward - but there is no flood, no wailing, nothing more than a resigned sort of disappointment. She’ll figure out what to do about the house later - for now, she needs a drink. Spare key, a shawl - check. Looking quite solemn and clutching the piece of paper in her hand, the entertainer steps daintily into The Hanged Man, finds a seat at an empty table, and orders their best liquor. When you’re mourning a lost friend, you splurge for the good stuff. merry of soul, she sailed on a day over the sea to Skye