[Seasonal Event] Left To Rot [Open]

Welp. This isn’t quite the party she imagined. Lily snuck back in after singing to the herd (apparently it didn’t do much good… the Monsters still managed to get through) and did her best to mind her own business. She watches the commotion and the bodies and the relationships developing all around her - silent in her water-drinking (alcohol just seems like a Bad with a capital B idea right now) and observation. She’s used to sitting and observing, used to being the sober one when everyone around her has lowered their inhibitions to the point where they’re saying more than they mean to… She certainly hasn’t caught it all. There are far too many people here, but she recognizes Bastien and his fondness for drink, Rexanna, and Remi… Deimos, looking as broody and handsome as ever, and Melita. Phoebe isn’t here… she hopes the little blonde thing is ok. Truth be told, she’s on the verge of regretting her decision to come here, though there wasn’t another viable option. There’s too much Drama. Too much noise. Too much death. She feels like a sitting duck, feels like all these people in one place is just asking for a problem. But she has no way to change her circumstances. No magic, no way to protect herself. It would be folly to leave, so she won’t. Lily will just sit here, sleep here, and make up songs in her head about this week - not all of which will be flattering. She spots a ginger man in the corner, alone now, when she’s usually seen him in the company of another man. Her eyes narrow, catching the tell-tale micromovements of concealed sobs, having seen too many women paint the same picture. Her lips purse together and she goes up to the bar, asks for two shots of the dark stuff, and then sidles on over the sad man and his lonely cup of tea. Placing the small little glass in front of him, she sits on the other side of the table and takes a wild stab at what’s bothering him. “Men suck. They are an unfortunate but necessary evil.” Literally. She makes her money off their vices. lily as if you were on fire from within the moon lives in the lining of your skin