"It's never the mouth that stings, but the sharp pointy things," she said, smirking at her own tiny little rhyme.<br/>She wasn't truly nervous or fearful. But some part of her thought about killing Alliance - all Alliance - and that part wanted someone, anyone, to draw their blade or raise a wand as she came nearer to the portal.<br/>I dare them, she thought, eyes slitting dangerously.<br/>A few people did indeed come through the portal, but ever and always, their gaze was towards the beckoning faire farther down the path. Strange eyes in the trees followed each person as they rode past the sign posts leading the way to the entrance of the fairegrounds. But not a single one glanced in her direction, considered who else was around, or even came in fighting armor. Most seemed to be dressed casually, as if expecting only pleasant things to befall them on the mysterious island.<br/>Lilith was disappointed but she continued to let the Worgen lead her on. Hopefully there would be some delight in what he could show her, some pleasure in the mystery the fog presented, that fighting and slaying Alliance didn't offer just now.<br/>"I'm thankful for your thoughtfulness. I am not sure how many dresses I have, really. So yes, I ought to preserve this one as much as possible..."<br/>But why would she wear such a pretty dress to such a wild place as her hilltop sanctuary, where she had met the Worgen? Was she too like the revelers they saw, coming only for joy and fun, not expecting a fight of any sort?<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>