Damsel in Distress

There is someone out there, and though Lily isn’t the religious type, the surge of relief which flows through her already quivering body is enough to make her want to thank God. Any God. And then he’s at her side, (her savior!) and she turns towards the man who so gently grasps her elbow (ever so courteous), eyes wide and barely concealing the shock she’s entering. He has an accent that she isn’t familiar with, says words she does not understand. A confused look flits across her face as she, child-like, accepts the additional cover without protestation. Now, look - Lily isn’t the fragile flower her name makes her out to be - but she has come to enjoy certain comforts and courtesies in the past year or so. She’s mentally cunning and sharp as a tack, but physically soft and yielding (unless that’s not their thing). And a portal to another world is the last thing she would ever have expected to find while running helter-skelter down a dark alley. Man with a knife? Sure. This? Nope, nope, nope. A strand of fire-red hair falls from her disheveled up-do, but she makes no move to brush it behind an ear. “This isn’t… it’s not Winter yet, it’s fall, it’s...” she finally gets out, before trailing off again and pulling the shawl tighter, as if she might keep the heat in by cocooning herself. “Am I…?” she begins, before a vicious wave of chattering teeth stop her in her tracks and every muscle in her body seems to clench inward. This must be a dream. She's fallen and hit her head and she's either died, or this is one really fucking lucid dream. lily as if you were on fire from within the moon lives in the lining of your skin

Bastien