WHERE LIGHT MEETS DARK
There was hope.
And in the midst of it all—Lily and Vandaulf.
“You’re breathing too loud,” Lily muttered without looking up from her sketchpad, a pencil tucked behind her ear, the other in her hand, tapping against the paper.
“I’m literally just existing,” Vandaulf replied from the couch, watching her from over a stack of fabric swatches. “You’re the one judging ribbon samples like they hold state secrets.”
"Yes, they do keep state secrets," she told him sternly, holding two very similar champagne-colored swatches in front of him. "This one is an ethereal goddess. That one is… budget motel."