Lillies and Roses
When Lilly appears to her the world is always shimmery. Light distorts, it almost feels like looking through a kaleidoscope. Some things get blurrier at the edges, floating dark and undefined behind the blinding fabulousness that is — was Lillian Marguerite Kane, and it makes her think she's crazy but still, it feels right.
It isn't always direct contact, sometimes it's memories. Play by plays of a life that once was, in front of her. Sometimes she sees herself too, long blonde hair, naive and untainted. It hurts to watch, in all the ways you would think and then some. Often it's the distinct smell of lilies and roses wafting through the air, or sunlit glints of shinny wheat blonde hair — with and without ghastly copper matted clumps she can't afford to think about but has seen too many times to count, a sight forever etched in her brain. The only memory of her best friend she prays to things she doesn't believe in to forget. Even after she learns to compartmentalise and seek the truth with the aggression of a unruly pitbull and without remorse. Glimpses and giggles, flirting with her peripheral vision and remaining the main focus of her consciousness in a way only Lilly Kane knew how.
When it was direct though, the ghost or hallucinogenic apparition, dreams or whatever of her best friend. That's when she could feel the world shift on it's already precarious axis. Veronica couldn't ask questions, not if she expected answers anyhow.
It doesn't work like that Veronica Mars, I can't do your job for you.
She'd laugh, her face would light up and then she'd go right back to flicking through Veronica's wardrobe, the way she always had.
You're like a total rock chick Veronica Mars. Kick. Ass.
Veronica would frustrate easily, pace while Lilly flipped through a magazine but she'd never raise her voice. Not even as she discovered some of the more atrocious things her friend had done. Some eye rolling and exasperated glares though, fair game. Turns out that Lilly alive, or Lilly dead was a pain in the ass. One she missed irrevocably.
Sunshine and daisies didn't last forever though, Lilly would tell her as much.
You need to get over this Veronica, move on. I'm already dead. And tell Logan to pull his head out of his ass.
When she talked about him Veronica wasn't sure what to say, or do. She didn't want to know what Lilly, real, alive Lilly would think about how their inner circle had imploded. Lilly's death was the start of an ongoing domino effect, one day they all fell down, taking anything and everything surrounding them with it.
Your blatant sexual tension would be hi-larious if I wasn't so bored 'Ronica.
Lovahboy always had the hots for you, remember?
Veronica would splutter and scoff every time she made a comment to the effect. Claiming hatred, repulsion and evil — things that were true but had nothing to do with attraction, Lilly told her as much.
Come. On. Veronica Mars. Slashed tyres? Locker bongs? Besides, has evil ever smelt so good?
As quickly though as the world would shimmer, it would return to the dull, bleak, heartbreak-ridden horror show that she had come to know and Lilly would be gone again. When asked if she'd return she would only smirk, the dying fire behind her eyes offering nothing in the way of answers or explanations.
You could always tell when Lilly had a secret if nothing else, not only because she'd tell you but because of the look, yes an entire patented look. It screamed I know something you don't. Then again, hadn't she always?