Lydia woke up around the time she normally did, relatively early, though she didn't stir much or get up. She remained in bed, curled up within the sheets, not daring to speak or think. Even a couple hours after Grem left, after he had offered a supportive touch, she couldn't find any motivation to get up and carry on with her day.

What would there be to do?

Go to the market, mingle with friends... she'd be terrible company to them in this state. And if she had to hear a 'cheer up' or 'it'll be okay'... well... The green haired elf didn't operate like most in this realm seemed to. Death wasn't something so easily forgotten, so easily set aside, not felt. One so unaffected by the tragedies of life could hardly be affected by the boons it offered either.

The store. It simply wasn't an option. The last time she was there, the memories of that place... so happy, so painful to remember. A mere couple of days ago Storm had been there, laughing, working with her and Erin. These thoughts...

They would not do.

Without a word or sound, and with a face of neutrality, Lydia got up and carried on a rather monotonous routine. The bed was made, a shower was taken, teeth were brushed, face was washed, clothing was donned, her messenger bag was slung over a shoulder, the door leading out of Grem's apartment was opened, she stepped out, then closed the door behind her. Somehow, probably habit, she managed to remember to lock the door behind her.

The route taken through WestEnd was not the usual route, though it could hardly be called the scenic route either. Certain areas were bypassed, areas she feared running into a friend, or even her sister. The manor and that entire neighborhood was bypassed altogether. It was early in the day though, light outside, so taking a few shortcuts through some alleys and even passing through the 'shadier' parts of WestEnd hardly posed a risk to her.

Along the way, posters were ignored. Though this wasn't unusual. Erin might read them, keep up with them, but she never did unless it looked to be something.. colorful, safe. Most times she read something though, it was never good news, always just a reminder of the evil in this realm, so she stopped. That one poster though, that... certain poster. Erin had discovered it, but even that wasn't read, not really.

It could only be ignored so much though.

By now, she was close to the inn, but seeing that poster. Again. It got to her. Expression of neutrality still cloaking her emotions, she approached a board that had a few posters tacked on, but it was that poster that had caught her attention. Gaze locked on the words, slowly moving to follow them as she tried to take them in this time.

Storm Divine.

They were the last words she saw before the words became a blur and her eyes stung. They closed, briefly, allowing the pools building within to stream down her cheeks. Lydia's eyes opened again, and she tried to refocus on those words, but every time she did, they just became a blur again. This just wasn't going to happen. A frown broke her look of neutrality, already betrayed by tears, as she glanced around, wiping at her face rather quickly. Not a soul in sight it seemed. She took the opportunity to pull that poster off the board, almost with care. It was folded once, and tucked into her bag.

Pale, slightly watery blues looked about once more before she moved for the inn.

Once, Storm had made mention of wanting a red dress. She said she had plans for it, though they never really got brought up again... Busy lives for everyone involved it seemed, so easy to fall behind like that... to forget about something that just didn't seem all that important at the time.

Though really, the green haired elf hadn't forgotten.

She worked up some plans recently for this dress, had even started on it, but didn't finish it quite as quickly as she originally planned or hoped. Working on the shop, Valentine's Day... she didn't have the time. But now?

Too late.

Knees bent as she sank down to the ground, back sliding against the door along the way. Strap of her messenger bag was rolled off her shoulder, sending the bag itself to the floor with a dull thunk. Pale gaze, starting to pool with water again, was intent on those red fabrics. Her look was almost one of shock, panic, like she had forgotten to do something rather important... Sitting on the floor, she drew her knees to her chest and propped her elbows upon them as hands ran through her hair. Incoherent mutterings and whimperings escaped her as she shook her head.

Too late...

Such a fact though, didn't seem to matter right now. Eyes were squeezed shut tightly as she wiped harshly at the tears running down her cheeks again. Shaking her head vehemently, she lowered it, and took a few, deep, almost ragged breaths in an attempt to compose herself. Without much thinking she straightened a little, and opened her eyes. Bag that had been carelessly abandoned mere moments ago was snatched up from the floor and set into her lap as legs stretched out. She rummaged through it frantically and pulled out the notebook she always carried with her. That silly, shiny green notebook... A change in demeanor then, as she calmly and carefully flipped through the pages, searching for one in particular.

A lump formed in her throat when she found it, but she forced the sobs back. There was no time for them, not now.

Fingers trailed across the crude dress design on the page, that were on an even cruder drawing of Storm... such a silly thing. She forced her attention on that design though, not who it clothed, and studied it for a few moments, absently rising to her feet. Lips pursed as she moved towards a small table, and set the book there. Lydia then moved to another small table, littered with all sorts of sewing things. She had to sift through it a bit to find what she needed. Pins, thread, needles, a zipper to go in that red dress...




For hours she worked. Nonstop. Diligently, almost feverishly. Pricked fingers and fatigue were ignored through it all, but it had paid off. The dress was lovely, a bold red with soft, flowing fabrics. There was only one thing missing. A sash to accentuate the waist.

In her original designs, she had mulled over the color of the sash, but never made a final decision regarding it. However now? There was only one color that seemed appropriate.

Black.

With care, said black sash was secured around the waist of the dress, and sewed in place.

Lydia regarded the dress impassively for a long moment, running a couple fingers over it that hadn't been the victims of being pricked with pins rather carelessly. Another lump forming in her throat was swallowed back as she turned and moved towards a few empty boxes. One of about the right size was procured from the pile and set out on the table next to her notebook. With more than just a little care, she unzipped the dress and removed it from the mannequin. Folding it up neatly, it was settled into the box and then closed. Somewhere amidst the mess that was her 'place of work', she located some blue grey ribbon, and tied it around the box, even added something that could almost be considered a neat bow.

That done, she flipped through her notebook, and ripped out a clean page. She moved to snatch her bag off the floor and set it on the table, sliding notebook back within, this time pulling her familiar green pen out. Pen pressed to paper, she slowly scribbled something out, her print a bit messier and forced than usual.

Thank you, for all that you've done for me.

-Lydia

A shaky breath taken in, she folded the paper in half once, twice, thrice, then tucked it beneath the ribbon that held the box together.