[open] all you have is your fire; any

[lilliana]

As soon as the words tumble from her mouth, she wishes she could take them back. The mortification and embarrassment flicker across those ice blue eyes as surely as fireflies must light this forest in the summer months. It is dark, the darkest hours of the night and the only thing that offers Lilli any solace is the silver moonglow that bathes them all in that eerie shade of pale of midnight. His laughter comes out like a bark, something that startles Lilli in her crimson skin. Part of her withdraws, pulls away to protect herself from the almost physical blow of his words.

A part of her wants to melt back into shadow and obscurity. But the ground does not open up to swallow her and she doesn't fade into the nighttide (as much as she might wish too).

This has been seconds, a mere few, but it feels like a lifetime to Lilliana. His words hang around them, suspended and accusatory. He might have flung them to the trio of mares but they ring in Lilli's ears and cause her heart to hammer, drumming out any other sound that otherwise might be heard. Those blue eyes drop, look down because where else is she to look? She can't stand to look at him because it burns and she can't quite bring herself to look at the other two. The curling mane cascades down and she tries to hide underneath her copper forelock. The apology is there on the tip of her tongue, almost comes out too faint and quiet in the winter night. She doesn't know what else to offer other than that.

The cream mare speaks, words that are honed right at Brigade and something in Lilli lifts. There is a fire in there, somewhere. It has been reduced to embers in the last few months, smoldering beneath heartache and loss and regret. But it still there, waiting to be stoked again. Vastra's words light that much-needed spark and Lilli lifts her gaze then, December sky eyes taking slightly narrowed with a frosty stare. The transparency of her emotions, which she always hated, look up to Brigade. She doesn't understand the coldness of his words, the hardness that he surrounds himself with. For a minute, she tries to understand it because that is just who she is. Lilli wonders what has happened to make him act this way. 

It's partly her fault, for her silly words and for that buoyant nature that she has, the glass that will always be half-full in Lilli's world. Somehow, somewhere, Lilli does find enough courage to sideglance at Vastra. There is gratitude in the look whether she chooses (or wants) to see it. The other mare, this one who glows and contains all the beauty of a wild sunset, captivates Lilli. She watches the fire she breathes (awes at it) and then as her slender shoulders send the butterflies dancing, Lilli feels the envy rise in her. She has never been born with great beauty or any great gifts. What you see, down to the very emotions that she fails at hiding, is what you get with the russet girl.

She still watches Brunhilde, trying to understand the scope of the residents that call this place home. She exhales softly, an inaudible snort as the mare turns her attention back to Brigade. Lilli wants to get mad at him, to lash out at him with all confusion and aching she feels.

But the weight of it leaves her tired, another added burden to everything else she has been carrying.  So Lilli lets it go, refusing to be propelled by anger. "What are you doing out here then? There are better places to hide if you wanted solitude." Her voice comes out, drained and guarded, already steeling herself for his next reply. But the question isn't just for Brigade - it's for Vastra and Brunhilde too. Lilli knows why she isn't sleeping but what of them? What calls the golden flyer, the walking sunset, and the indignant man into the open embrace of night?