The Tolls of Bells, Wedding or Otherwise [Alice]

[Lily Evans]

How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes
I struggle to find any truth in your lies

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Fingertips meet, but only the cool touch of glass is felt. Crooked frowns mimic one another, but there is just something about them that doesn't quite match up. Eye contact holds with equal strength, but one still outstrips the other. If she had to pin point it, she'd say that it was something in her face and in that crooked frown and in those unwavering eyes that made her so different from the reflection she was staring at. It was as if she was staring at an entirely different girl, somehow more tangible and substantial than the actually being that stood here now, wearing Lily's skin.

What was it? She struggled, struggled, to find name or cause or answer; even just a shred of answer would serve as solace. The girl was excruciatingly more beautiful than she was, pale skin porcelain against the white of the pearls strung around her neck and pinned red curls reminiscent of the sheet of lace that hung down her back, tickling the skin of her back, bare until the place just below her waist. The girl was also a lot more devious than she, more confident and less unsure. But what exactly made the crucial difference between the two of them, Lily had no idea.

Nothing in the atmosphere had changed, but suddenly Lily's feet began to move of their own accord, against every nerve-wracking thought Lily had in her head. She had no idea what made her so sure she was nervous, but she knew suddenly that she'd never wanted to vomit more violently in her entire life. And suddenly, the nausea was replaced by a reassurance of safety--true safety, not the false sense of security people usually lulled themselves into.

Moments of true safety come so far and in between, so rare and in the smallest forms at that. Interlocking fingers with someone you trust, receiving a hug from a young child too naive to understand real pain but at a young enough age to still be able to recognize it, walking through your own front door after a particularly trying day. Exceptional, scarce gems that they are, those who recognize these moments cherish them deeply and hold them for as long as possible. Lily Evans was one of these few individuals, and it was in recognizing this safety that she clung still closer to her father's arm to make the feeling last.

They walked. Their feet were set into a pattern: one foot forward, the other one meeting it at the same point with the same breath and the same distance. Their path was straight, set by the surrounding blues and darks and lights and pales on each opposing side of her, colors that were all slowly losing names and personalities and memories with each new passing step. Her mind was concentrated on the complexity of her different personality reflected in that mirror, allowing the safety of having her arm slung in her father's to guide her blindly. She stepped without thought, thought without care, cared without knowledge.

The walking stopped. Suddenly, her arm was unhooked from her father's and her father was gently kissing her forehead and smoothing away a tear from her face that she hadn't even realized existed. He left. Another hand entered her field of view. She didn't know who it was, but she reached out to touch this hand and when skin contact was made, she finally understood what it was about the reflection that made her so different. The feeling of unkempt love flowed through her body like a shock and she smiled despite herself, understanding now, understanding what had made that reflection so much more brilliant and radiating than her own and what was making her so much more brilliant and radiating in this moment.

Her eyes flicked up from where she had been watching the fingers of the other hand fold slowly over her own, and she found herself being led forward by eyes of brown into the path she finally recognized to be the abyss of forever, though she'd never walked it before...

Her eye lids flew open with a start, revealing eyes that were bloodshot red around the eyes with confusion and causing her neck furiously berating her for being held so long at so crooked an angle. She looked around at her surroundings, trying to find something, anything, that would explain what was happening. Her eyes locked on Alice--something constant, something she cherished deeply, something tangible--still doing homework like she had been before. And it all made sense o Lily. Oh, she'd fallen asleep. That didn't make her dreams any more or less nauseating than they had been. With a groan and a careless toss of her body onto the ground, Lily dug her face into Alice's thigh with a string of unintelligible words.

She really did need to stop studying so hard, if it was going to lead to dreams so disturbing and revolting as this one had been. Ugh, she felt so nauseous. Hopefully at least Alice would have some words of comfort, because there were none that Lily could think to herself. The was a brash taste on her tongue now, one she tried to shake off miserably without success. Horrified, she was. Absolutely, one hundred percent horrified.

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And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know
This weakness I feel I must finally show