LILY
oh, cover your crystal eyes
and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
There’s no one she cares about enough to hang a lantern. For a long time, it’s been all for one and one for one, and that one is Lily. That can happen when your parents sell you and then you (in the interest of being honest) sell yourself. But she’s been cooped up in her house for far too long, and it seems fairly evident that this thing that’s plaguing her won’t go away any time soon. So, paler than usual, her hands trembling until she can ball them into fists, Lily follows the crowd to the Greatwood, one of the few not carrying a lantern in memoriam.
She wanders around, somewhat listlessly - gazing at magnificent and poor creations alike, saucer-eyes caught up in the dancing flames and solemnity of the tradition. The redhead feels like a ghost, slipping away to nothing, with no one to see her fade away and the knowledge that that is entirely of her own doing. Withdrawing was always her way of coping.
Could be worse, though. She could die in poverty or the workhouse. At least here, her bed is warm.
