Sight

Wes/Ilyria/Fred

A/N: For the wonderful houses7177 as a thanks for the great story recs!


It used to be that he could tell the difference, even with his glasses off.

Fred was softness and rounded lines, hued by a child's watercolor kit, while her sick joke of a doppelganger had the jagged edges and misappropriated parts of a Picasso with a penchant for the ironic.

Then, not even bleary eyes, wearied by endless nights of research, could be fooled by the demonic facsimile.

Now, his eyes opening from a few stolen moments of rest, he wasn't sure exactly who was standing in front of him.

"Cursed spectacles," he muttered as his hands groped for clarity.