LILY
When the man approaches her prize, Lily screams in rage, a frightful, ear-splitting sound that was more animal than woman at this point. It rips through her precious vocal chords with wild abandon, but the red head had found the trapped doe only a few minutes before and was just about to break its neck when footsteps in the snow sent her skittering behind a tree. She’s scared of the stranger, but also fucking hungry.Hangry women are bad. But hangry Blight!women are furies incarnate.
Black eyes surrounded by a pale, dirty face poke out from behind the bare tree. Her face is still contorted into the shape of a scream, teeth bared and stance predatory. That is her deer. Her dinner. The force of her scream brings blood to her nose, dripping its black, tarry goo down her upper lip. After her face comes half her body - wrapped in filthy clothes, but she is wearing more than half her blighted compatriots. Lily’s nails, once impeccably clean and tidy (all the better to play the piano with) are now ragged and torn, digging into the tree’s bark as if they were talons.
“Mine.” she says, the threat of violence heavy in her voice.
don't know if you love me or you want me dead
the way you're looking through my eyes
Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive
