one way or another

Lily sing me a song of a lass that is gone Gah. Never before has she faced such open sexuality, such frankness, such desire and knowing all in one heavy, lidded gaze. Even in her most voracious patrons (usually the most selfish, who wouldn’t have the patience to make a woman cum if she gave them a fast-tracked, step-by-step manual) lacked half the of whatever quality it is that makes Frey… well, Frey. Lord, she'd be non-functional if this was the norm. She takes the necklace back and places it around her neck, fiddling for a moment with the clasp before glancing down at the lovely collection and the way it lies in stark contrast to her plain, serviceable clothes. Oh, how her life has changed. Frey laughs and Lily can’t help but smile. It’s like when a child laughs, and the adults laugh for no other reason than that they’re witnessing something wild and free. Their exclamations makes her feel like she’s in some sort of special club, and of course, the image itself is amusing. So now they’re both laughing, and when she comes down from that, her eyes are shining. “A piano. I’d really love a piano. To go with my little cabaret.” And because people only seem to laugh and dance at festivals these days, and that’s a damn shame. merry of soul, she sailed on a day over the sea to Skye