Lacey
She hadn't even cared where they'd ended up. She was so sick of traveling and just wanted to rest, stay in one place for a while no matter where it was. Hell, she'd have even taken Pangea, that hell she and Sabrael had been stolen away to had it not been for the disease soaking the earth there. She just wanted to rest.
She'd followed in silence, a numb steeling in her weary bones and the sun beating down on the pale lace pattern over her hips. Aside from those scars, that art, she was brown on top of more brown with a hint of brown. She was dull and uninteresting, and nothing like the family she was surrounded by. They were all like their father, even little Baddie with his red and purple like a sunset on fire, matching Reilly's Irish red.
She was the imposter. The outcast. She always would be.
The sound of his approach was familiar, a comfort because it was not one of her grandchildren. Hah. Grandchildren. She couldn't quite wrap her head around that. She felt like she'd barely just had Kali, and suddenly she's a grandmother. A horrible one, of course. She was a terrible mother and would surely be the worst excuse of a grandmother too. God, a grandmother! It was insane. She was barely five or six now. How could this have happened?
"I don't like it here," she said quietly, still managing to sound a bit bladed even when she was so tried. What she really meant was that she hated everything. Absolutely everything. Their home wasn't safe. Again. She's a god damn grandmother. They'll hate her. She's terrible at everything she does. Why did Reilly insist on staying at her side? She didn't deserve this fool Irishman, or those three gorgeous babies she'd birthed. She didn't want to see that stranger anywhere near Kir. She didn't want to see his stupid face either.
She hated everything.
@[Reilly]