(405. The seventh sister, aged eighteen and four days.)
“Can I help you?” asks Galilee, trying not to sound as though she'd rather be anywhere but doing her hours at the legal aid clinic.
The young woman flinches, then smiles shyly. “Thank you,” she murmurs. Her fingernails are painted a defiant shade of deep purple and she keeps toying with the small curls of hair at the nape of her neck as if she's unused to how short her pixie cut is. “I'm Millie, well, Humility Winters really, but I'm changing that. That's not why I'm here though. I'm here because I need help freeing my sister.”
The young woman flinches, then smiles shyly. “Thank you,” she murmurs. Her fingernails are painted a defiant shade of deep purple and she keeps toying with the small curls of hair at the nape of her neck as if she's unused to how short her pixie cut is. “I'm Millie, well, Humility Winters really, but I'm changing that. That's not why I'm here though. I'm here because I need help freeing my sister.”