It's not every day you find out that you are a rider of dragons.
Especially if you had spent almost half of your life in an oppressive orphanage, doing chores, working like a slave and trying to survive crazy children and evil housekeepers.
For year...
"Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting."
― Haruki Murakami
Nobody talked and nobody left, all of them were at her side to show in their own way that they were going to be at her side, that everything would return as before.
Lily slowly fell asleep, lulled by the warmth of her friend and her perfume of roses, because she was tired, but her family was with her, so it was okay to sleep and lose herself for a while.
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Her fingers grazed slightly the pale skin, touching the red scarring tissue on her face as she watched almost perplexed at her reflection.
It wasn't as deep as she had expected it to be, or as gruesome, really. Sure, they were angry irritated lines, and it still hurt a bit to move her cheek, but she had been really lucky to not also lose the vision on her eye.
Arya in the end had done a wonderful job in healing her, not that she had excepted anything different from the remarkable elf.
Now she had three red cuts marking her right side of the face, mercifully made by the hand of the Phantom, one passing just above the jaw line, one on her cheek and one just at the end of the eye, where already on the way of healing, no more dripping blood like the first day. They were now all showing new pink skin under the crusts, just like the other ones that continued down her chest, following a perfect path.
They weren't extremely painful, the cream she had been applying made sure of that, along with a better and faster healing. Still, they were a visible reminder of what had happened.
She didn't expect to get out from training and subsequently the war with no scars, outside or inside, but she didn't think it would be on her face, for everyone to see and talk.
And while she had never thought herself to be a vain person, it was still hard to see the most evident part of her scarred that way. Even if Arya had told it would slowly fade into a lighter pink with time until they would become white, she would still have to look in the mirror and see her stupidity.
Overall, she was still a bit pale and sickly looking and covered in bandages everywhere, but she was on the way of recovery. Her right side and leg persevered on hurting like hell at every movement, but they were no longer inflamed for the poison and moving was coming easier.
Lily slowly grabbed all her clothes scattered everywhere on the floor and exited the small bathroom, stepping slowly into the squad tent.
And here he was, sat comfortably on what seemed to be the director's bed, holding a book that she recognized was Victor's, and looking into it in what looked like vague and bored interest. He was still very wary of his surroundings, never letting any movement around the tent get unknowledgeable, looking with a hard and determined expression every time shadows passed outside.
