hold my hand

lily from what i’ve tasted of desire i hold with those who favor fire It is too bad. That’s why Lily isn’t too fussed about being here. She’s finding that the free life is the good life: fuck the toxic colonial America patriarchy and fuck parents who can sell their children into servitude (though if they could invent birth control ASAP, that would be great). She inhales violently, surprised that the King of all people could do such a thing to his own subjects. There’s a great sense of betrayal, of a sense that someone in charge should be a protector, but then she thinks back to her own past, to the fairly recent war, and she knows in her heart that she shouldn’t be surprised. “Why?” she asks quietly, hoping that Melita can shed some sort of light on the troubling revelation. Why? “Was he… paid to do it? Possessed?” The redhead continues, a tad excited, “I’ve heard of witches who can do such things.” Though personally, Lily would rather like to be a witch. Minus the whole ‘being hunted down and hung by the neck till dead thing’ that’s going on. By now, the two women are back to the beginning of the bridge, but the entertainer is so wrapped up in the story that she hardly notices until her feet find earth instead of stone. It’s then that she squeezes Melita’s arm and looks down at her friend in delight. They did it!