Self expression was a split title in the house of the hearth. Every child was allowed to decide on their own appearance as long as they still looked proper, but not too much at the same time. A fine balance between allowance to be yourself and making sure the kids knew they were nothing but fatui soldiers

Peruere hadn't ever cared much. With her barely 17 years of life, from which she had spent most under the name of crucabena, individuality wasn't that big of a concern for her. Her curse was enough individuality she would've needed. She wasn't one for attention.

You were her best friend, a title you had to be careful with in the house. Best friends could be gone one day to another. Yet her complete opposite. Choosing to dress up as much as the boundaries allowed, which had lead to another one of the fatui harbingers, Lady signora, to always bring you small gifts. Subtle lipsticks, simple colors for makeup. Everything under the premise of promising you wouldn't tell crucabena. Your mother.

And yet you had managed to convince Peruere to try it. You'd do it for her. Her room lit by a small bedside lamp, the house quiet aside from some coughs or owls singing outside in the dark of the night. Sitting on her stomach as she laid on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, one eye closed as you kept moving your brush over it, as careful as if she was a fragile porcelain doll.

"Are you done yet.. this feels like forever."