<div class="floatleft">(http://i1326.photobucket.com/albums/u649/wigglebiscuit/Lydia/HumeFemale_zps9b0dc3da.jpg)</div>Lydia does a poor job of hiding her surprise at the face nestled in the petals of the Marchioness' flower-throne. She shouldn't be...the fae is known for her extravagance, but it was not at all what she was expecting.<br/><br/>Nothing in this realm is as she imagined it to be. True, she has seen it before on the tubes, but being here, in person...for the first time she imagines herself as<em>not</em>leaving the Reaping levels behind, but instead turning aside and spending a pleasant eternity in the Marchioness' ethereal realm.<br/><br/><em>No!</em><br/><br/>This is not what she came here to do! The revulsion she feels at the first true challenge to her purpose is almost enough to send her back through the doors in search of a less enticing Counselor, but that would be working against her own survival. No, she will use the Marchioness, and not the other way around.<br/><br/>In order to do that, though, she must first win her favor.<br/><br/>Nodding at the fae queen's words, Lydia starts toward the throne, shedding her pack, her canteen, her sword belt as she goes. The Marchioness is without doubt the most beautiful creature she has ever seen, and as she sinks to her knees in front of the throne, she feels a stab of jealousy that it is some other contestant and not her pleasuring the queen so. That would be another delightful way to spend eternity...<br/><br/>Lydia sighs. She has found herself, most unexpectedly, in a place of unceasing temptation.<br/><br/>Gathering her straying thoughts, Lydia looks up at the Marchioness. "I, Lydia of Faullen's Creek, do swear, in exchange for what services you deem me worthy to provide, my unflinching loyalty and gratitude. I am yours, dear Lady."<br/><br/>With that she leans forward, gently cradles the Marchioness' bare foot in her hands, and tenderly kisses it.