(no subject)

[perfectblue.livejournal.com]

The door opens, and for a moment -- just a moment, the blink of an eye, really -- there is someone who looks very much like Winnifred Burkle standing inside Milliways. She is wearing, if such things matter, a subdued dress in some dark color or other.

But that is all one will see of her before the moment passes, and it becomes clear as the blue returns to her features and the clothes change back to her usual red armor that this is, in fact, Illyria.

She looks rather subdued. Not angry. Not half-dead or half-mad with rage, like some of the other times she has returned from her own world. But not pleased.

She does not feel like being here just now. Was not quite expecting to be, perhaps, but does not seem particularly compelled to be elsewhere, as she takes a seat in a corner booth and eyes the crowd with a particular sort of unsettling gaze.

She won't tell you where she's been, or what's bothering her, if anything is. Because it's a secret. Because it is none of your business.

She will, however, likely talk to you if you are so inclined.