#mw; lily hawkeye

[felilydae]

❛ oh no... lily, my jumpsuit is unbuttoned, and i'm too busy carrying these books... i need your help. ❜ anya blushes and blinks at lily wetly, pathetically, and soppingly.

Lily blinks back at Anya, though far less wetly, pathetically, and soppingly than her coworker. She looks down at the stack of textbooks in Anya's hands, and then back up at Anya's pleading expression, and then down at the unbuttoned jumpsuit. Sure enough, the full chest of her sweater is visible.

These jumpsuits aren't exactly easy to button or unbutton... how did that just happen on its own? Lily's brow furrows, and she hums. Oh, well. Anya is a dear friend, and she doesn't mind to help her out with this predicament! She wouldn't want her friend to feel too exposed in the workplace, or anything...

"Oh, yeah! S—sure thing, Anya. I've gotcha." Lily smiles warmly, (cluelessly,) and politely reaches up over the textbooks to grab the fasten of Anya's jumpsuit top. Quickly and with ease, she does up all of the buttons and tugs the neck of Anya's sweater back over the collar to sit where it ought to.

"There we... go." Lily backs away, double-checks her work, and looks back up with a smile. She's always happy to help! "That b— that better?"

Flirtation attempt status: catastrophic failure.

[felilydae]

:)c teehee

magma collab with @felilydae

[felilydae]

❛ hey... easy, dear. it'll be okay. ❜ a gentle, sturdy hand finds itself on lily's shoulder. ❛ take a deep breath with me, okay? y- you're safe. ❜

It scarcely happens anymore. Just a few times a year, if that, thanks to therapy. Waking in a cold sweat, fingers digging into her stomach so hard it hurts, fighting for each breath— it always comes in the night, without warning. A poison in her sleeping mind.

(The scar itches. Lily digs her palms into it in hopes that she can push down the phantom hollowness in her belly.)

Their apartment isn't shoddy, per se, but the wall separating their bedrooms is still notably thin. She shouldn't be surprised that Anya heard her— though Lily isn't even sure when she started crying, especially loudly enough to be heard at this hour. The midst of her anguish sees that she doesn't notice any signs of her roommate's approach until there is a hand on her shoulder and a kind voice telling her to breathe.

While Lily flinches at the touch, she doesn't shrink away. It's Anya's voice, so it must be Anya's hand trying to soothe her. She must be at home. As her roommate says— she must be safe.

...Did Anya call her 'dear'?

Lily's vision comes back into focus as it flits to her friend, locking onto the rise and fall of her chest as directed. It's hard, really hard, but she tries. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, attempting to time it the same. Her breathing slows. But the instant she gets one good breath in, it's coming back out in a patchy rasp.

"I—h s—hry. I'm— s— I-I'hm sssor—rry," stumbles out of her mouth at less than a whisper, only pausing so that Lily can take in another slow, guided breath before continuing. The panic expands in her chest and she needs— she needs to hold onto something, where is Kitty?

She can settle for the next best thing. Trembling fingers reach up blindly until they find Anya's sleeve, digging in, squeezing the fabric in a search for something grounding as she tries to calm down. I'm sorry. Did I wake you up? I'm sorry. Were you busy? You shouldn't have to take care of me. I'm sorry. Please don't let go of me.

[felilydae]

❛ my sweet, beautiful girl... ❜ anya wraps her arms around lily, leaning her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to the corner of her jawline. ❛ are you feeling okay? ❜

Lily is lost in focus on the task at hand; standing at the counter, just about to start mixing ingredients she's added together in a bowl. (Stress baking. An obvious tell.) Were it not that she'd heard Anya moving around the kitchen moments before, the voice so close to her ear and the arms encircling her might've startled her from her reverie. Sometimes, Lily still struggles to remember that Anya is home, what with her absence last year.

Instead, she shivers, warmth creeping into her cheeks due to the sudden burst of affection from her girlfriend. Lily swallows, frozen in place, eyes wide and fixed on the bowl in front of her.

"B—?" A nervous giggle cuts her off, and she's unable to even repeat the compliment in questioning. Sometimes Anya calls her things that leave her unable to respond— such as beautiful, a thing she hardly considers herself to be. Yet, the question that follows it dims her smile. Not that Anya can see it from her angle, but...

"I'm, um... I-I'm alright." There's no use in lying, assuming that Anya already knows something is up by the nature of her nervous habit. A pause. "Glad you're... here. Just, um... kinda— kinda anxious today. S'all. Um... thank you... dear."

The metal mixing bowl is scooped up into Lily's arms, along with the stirring spoon, and she begins diligently mixing the ingredients together. The menial work really does help to soothe her nerves into a manageable state.

[felilydae]

That's the advantage of Anya being seated at her desk, isn't it; so that when she looks up at Lily with big, dark, soulful eyes and her perpetual pout, it's all the more deeply effective of a plea. The glasses slipping down her nose before being righted is also... unfairly cute. As always, the bravado that let her walk in here and say that to begin with vanishes immediately as she is quickly out-charmed.

...But she's had a few years, by now, to learn how to pick it back up.

Lily can't help the smile that crawls onto her face at Anya's blatant, whimsical posturing, though, and finds herself barely restraining a giggle. For someone who's barely left her room all day, Anya seems to still be delightfully chipper— treating a lack of being kissed like a medical condition to be cured... A welcome change from her misery back on the Tulpar.

"That right?" Lily sets a hand on the back of Anya's desk chair, allowing her to lean down slightly with a playful smile still on her face. "Gosh, Anya, I d— I didn't realize I'd left you in such a... sorry state. 'M sorry, sunshine. I-I'll getcha fixed up, ok—kay?"

She adjusts her footing, angling to be more in front of Anya, before reaching out her free hand— and carefully curling her fingers under her girlfriend's chin, tilting it up, thumb gentle against her cheek.

(It's not every day Lily gets to be the tall one. She has to really milk it while she can, okay?)

"Here," she murmurs, leaning in, eyes half-closing and focused downwards... ... ...and then in a flash, she moves back up and instead plants a peck on Anya's forehead.

Lily pulls back with a mischievous little grin. As for the reason she came in here to begin with... "If I give you a r—real kiss, will it... give you the strength... to come eat supper?"

" i, um... i-i haven’t kissed you yet , today . " [—lily hawkeye :3c]

❛ oh, dear... um, that's not good, lily... ❜ anya feigns dismay with a little pout. cue the puppy eyes as she looks at her girlfriend, pushing up her glasses which have decided to start sliding down her nose at that very moment. she'd been lost in stydying all day, determined to make her next application to med school the last one she'd ever need to send in. at least she had months of obsessively studying on the tulpar, but it didn't always feel like enough.

that said, lily's words do effectively pull her attention away from her textbooks and she smiles, hopefully and bashfully, before continuing. ❛ mm, perhaps you could remedy that for me...? i think a kiss would, well, give me strength... i'd be so much better off, if you came a little closer, o– or maybe caressed my cheek, or... or something like that. ❜

[felilydae]

There is deeply, truly, very little that compares to seeing genuine warmth and happiness on Anya's face. There were months of their lives where Lily feared she might never see it again— and yet here they are, safe at home. Alive. It's a privilege she can never take for granted.

"Aw... well, I guess I c'n— believe you, since you... you promised." Anya's so sweet to her. Lily finds herself doing little but grinning at her girlfriend as she compliments her, stretches, and meets her eyes— only for a moment, before her lovely dark gaze moves to...

Lily laughs, soft and light, at Anya's words, her plea of expression, her obvious focus on her lips. What a charming woman, she is. (How did Lily get so lucky, to be loved by someone so lovely?)

"Okay—! Okay, hon', okay," she gets out through a chuckle, "I believe you. C—c'mere."

There's no hesitation or trickery this time as Lily leans back in, struggling to shape her lips through her smile, and does as asked— gives Anya a real kiss. It's something that doesn't lose its magic, even as many times as she's done it.

When Lily pulls back several moments later, her cheeks are dusted pink, and her smile is far more shy.

"So... Um— supper?" Lest she get carried away and... forget.

That's the advantage of Anya being seated at her desk, isn't it; so that when she looks up at Lily with big, dark, soulful eyes and her perpetual pout, it's all the more deeply effective of a plea. The glasses slipping down her nose before being righted is also... unfairly cute. As always, the bravado that let her walk in here and say that to begin with vanishes immediately as she is quickly out-charmed.

...But she's had a few years, by now, to learn how to pick it back up.

Lily can't help the smile that crawls onto her face at Anya's blatant, whimsical posturing, though, and finds herself barely restraining a giggle. For someone who's barely left her room all day, Anya seems to still be delightfully chipper— treating a lack of being kissed like a medical condition to be cured... A welcome change from her misery back on the Tulpar.

"That right?" Lily sets a hand on the back of Anya's desk chair, allowing her to lean down slightly with a playful smile still on her face. "Gosh, Anya, I d— I didn't realize I'd left you in such a... sorry state. 'M sorry, sunshine. I-I'll getcha fixed up, ok—kay?"

She adjusts her footing, angling to be more in front of Anya, before reaching out her free hand— and carefully curling her fingers under her girlfriend's chin, tilting it up, thumb gentle against her cheek.

(It's not every day Lily gets to be the tall one. She has to really milk it while she can, okay?)

"Here," she murmurs, leaning in, eyes half-closing and focused downwards... ... ...and then in a flash, she moves back up and instead plants a peck on Anya's forehead.

Lily pulls back with a mischievous little grin. As for the reason she came in here to begin with... "If I give you a r—real kiss, will it... give you the strength... to come eat supper?"

[felilydae]

In the midst of a panic attack, Anya's words land as little more than empty sentiments to Lily; no more effective than the assurances that her mothers would murmur to her in similar states of duress. But still, even still, her voice is a comfort. Anya is here, with her; a piece of the present that invokes only warmth.

It's enough to register as comforting. That, and the fact that she's still letting Lily cling to her sleeve pitifully while she trembles and weeps.

And then Lily is laying down again. (Her fingers are still in the fabric of Anya's pajama shirt. Did she get pulled down when Anya moved...? ...It doesn't matter.)

Her hand retracts, returning to its other, digging nails into her stomach. Anya is— Anya's so close to her. Why is she so close? It makes Lily nervous, leaves her restless hands to instead claw aimlessly at her skin rather than press in. It's not enough. It doesn't help, she still...

Laying down makes it harder to breathe, in shaky, wheezing pants. They quicken as the panic starts to creep darkness into the corners of her vision, as she feels desperately like the air just can't reach her lungs. She's ungrounded.

Anya is warm. Moreso by far than anything else, given how cold Lily's become in her terror. The warmth is palpable, even though Anya is only nearby, body heat shared only through air. Moth to a flame, she doesn't know what else to do, doesn't have the wherewithal to claw her way out of her panic alone. One hand, jerky in its movements, reaches over again to find her again, settling on her arm. Affirming that she's there.

Then so moves the rest of her, a slow shift as Lily struggles to control her body long enough to roll herself over. Even once she lay facing Anya, she doesn't meet her eyes— barely registering anything at all through a glaze of tears. Both arms reach out, then, winding themselves around her roommate, clutching at the back of her shirt like a lifeline.

It... helps. It's enough. A shaky exhale rattles her body and Lily presses a little closer; still not enough for any meaningful amount of touch, torso and head still at least an inch apart, but it's enough. She feels less alone, like this. Her friend is here.

The panic ebbs, and so the other aspects of her misery come back into focus. The phantom grief sinks into her ribs, warm and heavy, gripping at her lungs and tugging at her heart. Terror bleeds into anguish. Lily's breath hitches. She sobs.

❛ hey... easy, dear. it'll be okay. ❜ a gentle, sturdy hand finds itself on lily's shoulder. ❛ take a deep breath with me, okay? y- you're safe. ❜

It scarcely happens anymore. Just a few times a year, if that, thanks to therapy. Waking in a cold sweat, fingers digging into her stomach so hard it hurts, fighting for each breath— it always comes in the night, without warning. A poison in her sleeping mind.

(The scar itches. Lily digs her palms into it in hopes that she can push down the phantom hollowness in her belly.)

Their apartment isn't shoddy, per se, but the wall separating their bedrooms is still notably thin. She shouldn't be surprised that Anya heard her— though Lily isn't even sure when she started crying, especially loudly enough to be heard at this hour. The midst of her anguish sees that she doesn't notice any signs of her roommate's approach until there is a hand on her shoulder and a kind voice telling her to breathe.

While Lily flinches at the touch, she doesn't shrink away. It's Anya's voice, so it must be Anya's hand trying to soothe her. She must be at home. As her roommate says— she must be safe.

...Did Anya call her 'dear'?

Lily's vision comes back into focus as it flits to her friend, locking onto the rise and fall of her chest as directed. It's hard, really hard, but she tries. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, attempting to time it the same. Her breathing slows. But the instant she gets one good breath in, it's coming back out in a patchy rasp.

"I—h s—hry. I'm— s— I-I'hm sssor—rry," stumbles out of her mouth at less than a whisper, only pausing so that Lily can take in another slow, guided breath before continuing. The panic expands in her chest and she needs— she needs to hold onto something, where is Kitty?

She can settle for the next best thing. Trembling fingers reach up blindly until they find Anya's sleeve, digging in, squeezing the fabric in a search for something grounding as she tries to calm down. I'm sorry. Did I wake you up? I'm sorry. Were you busy? You shouldn't have to take care of me. I'm sorry. Please don't let go of me.