@knifedindunwall
Delilah feels a bit like she’s been in a fugue state. The time here has taken its toll on her. She misses home, as strange as it feels to say. She misses the manor, misses her studio, the gardens her brethren would plant... Misses having a definitely dead sister. And a knock on the door draws her from her reverie. Her musings amidst the clutter. When did it get this messy in here?
Once she’s out of bed, she pushes things under the bed and shrugs on a shirt, buttoning it up on her way to the door. Who could that be? She runs through names idly. The lovely Diplomat? Lizzy Stride?
Unfortunately it isn’t any so lovely face. “Oh,” she says. “Daud.” She leans against the doorframe, eyes narrowing as she inspects him. “What do you want?” Why could he be here? Is he intending to kill her? Did she upset him more than usual... Wait. She can hardly stop the flicker of surprise on her face.
“...Why, Daud. Are you here to sit for a painting?”