Damsel in Distress

After his apology, she smiles and pats his arm in a reassuring manner. “That’s all right. You have a passion. I can’t fault you for being excited about it.” She’s never known that sort of passion. The bed sheeets passion, the singing passion, yes, but never the passion of a deep seated belief, or even something that one loves above all else. And then she follows it with a slightly more sly comment, “Besides, you could demand, but that doesn’t mean I’ll deliver.” A little wink and a half smile, and then they’re at a door with a star. Well, that is easy to remember. She doesn’t really give any thought to the settlement, other than that she should see it again when she’s wearing more clothes and it’s a bit brighter. Her toes have gone practically numb at this point, the throbbing in her ankle long gone with the chill of the snow, and so she stumbles over the threshold. A white, delicate hand claws for Bastien as she tries to catch herself with a little squeak-oof sound. When she manages to right herself (with or without his help), Lily chuckles darkly and hides her face in a hand. “Just making all sorts of good impressions aren’t I?” As if to answer her own question, she continues, “I mean, I should be worried about survival and if I’m going crazy and instead, I’m commenting on good impressions.” Another incredulous laugh and shake of her head. “I swear, I’m usually far more level headed.” Taking herself to a chair, she peels off her sodden shoes and tucks her feet underneath her butt and stays silent, looking around the room until Bastien returns with food, which she graciously accepts. Before tucking into it, she reaches again for one of his hands and should he left her, takes it in between her own. “Thank you, again.” And she really, truly, meant it. lily as if you were on fire from within the moon lives in the lining of your skin