The moonlight shone as the backdrop, as Lila stood firm against the ashen tree.
Her hand swept through the ashen bark, pity sparking in her emerald eyes—now flecked with storm.
In another World, she may feel it all.
A frozen heart. A withered snow. And a sullied cry.
Thus, for that World to never exist, Lila's fingertip glazed with ice; glittering dust dormant within, her serenity hollow.
Her hair was painted an emerald white; if one told of eyes as the window to her soul, this was proof of her honesty laid bare to the land.
Grey and blue wove her clothes anew; a cloak cut in her villagers' style draped her shoulders.
"Her lips breathed cold fog; a blue collar coiled around her neck to hide Mel's love mark, a secret for them alone.
Her shoulder skins were exposed, milky white, revealing a pure white robe.
A light blue hat covered her head, one that resembled her Mel's large witch hat.
