Definition
: lacking courage : cowardly
The basis of the word lily-livered lies in an old belief. Years ago, people thought that health and temperament were the products of a balance or imbalance of four bodily fluids, or humors: blood, phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile. It was believed that a deficiency of yellow bile, or choler, the humor that governed anger, spirit, and courage, would leave a person's liver colorless or white. Someone with this deficiency, and so white-livered, would be spiritless and a coward. Lily-livered and white-livered have been used synonymously since the 17th century, but lily-livered is now the more common expression, probably because of its alliteration.
"Look", I said patiently (or as patiently as I could with what felt like half a tub of paint on my face) to my mate as she liberally applied yellow eye shadow over my already rather heavily laden lids. "I just don't think this is necessary."
Cal rolled her eyes at me (how she even managed to keep them open after she had applied these humongous fake eyelashes that had diamante tips (the sparkling effect was super distracting and I had to keep trying to remember to pay attention to what she was saying) was beyond me. Maybe she did weightlifting training for her eyelids or something. It wouldn't surprise me. A more dedicated servant to fashion I had yet to meet. But a softer or more gentle soul I had yet to meet, which led to some minor..altercations at fashion parties when, seeking to take advantage of my friend's adulation and willingness to please, I had had to regretfully break several attendees jaws. And yet she still kept insisting on bringing me along to these things. Like I said, kindest soul ever.)
She shushed me. "Come on B, this is like the biggest UFO party of the season. We have to go in full war paint."
"Except we don't want to go to war with the aliens." I clarified.
"Yup." She said, nodding vigorously as she applied yet more glitter.
"Instead, and please, please do correct me if I'm wrong, we want them to abduct us."
"Yup!" She said again, beaming at me or, more likely, her handiwork.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why the hell would be want to be abducted by aliens? Didn't everyone in the nineties do their damn hardest not to get abducted? I mean, look at the fashion of the time for a start, if that didn't scream 'I'm not worth abducting and I probably have some sort of fungal infection' I don't know what does."
"Don't be mean." She said, practically on autopilot (she felt the need to say this at least ten times in any conversation we had. I don't think I was mean, it was just my opinion and her standards of niceness were just too high. Besides, what did I care if a person I cared for not at all cried.)
"I'm not begin mean!" I exclaimed. "I'm just stating a fact!"
"An opinion. Yours." She said firmly. "Despite what you think Miss Ruler of the Universe, it's not the same things. Besides, lots of people like nineties fashion."
"Weirdos you mean."
She just rolled her eyes at me again. "Anyway, you're done and the Uber will be here in a moment. What do you think?"
I looked in the mirror."Spectacular." I said honestly.
It was always odd and at the same time easy when she asked for my opinion on what she'd done to me, simply because I in no way looked anything like myself when she'd finished. Gone were my usual insecurities and issues about my body, face, hair, because the person looking back at me in the mirror was clearly a different person. My disguise was better than a Scooby Doo villain's - you only found out at the end, once the makeup had been removed, that it was me underneath all along.
It was unsettling and liberating and sometimes made me feel like it was a bit too enabling if I ever began to develop a split personality. Mostly I liked it.
The party was downtown, held on the roof of a big hotel with far too safety features for my liking. I assumed it was held on the roof so that the aliens could see us better. No one I knew had ever been abducted at one of these parties, and only a friend of a friend of a friend could claim to have been at one where aliens did actually attend. everyone saw them on the news sometimes, on on a morning breakfast show, sitting on a sofa across from some every anxious looking presenters, but few people, ordinary people (and fashionistas, despite trying with everything they had not to, still counted as ordinary people) had ever even seen one.
Of course, it didn't help that they could look like a human being if they chose to and therefore completely blend in. I was struck by the amusing thought that perhaps everyone at this party was an alien incognito, saying that they wanted to meet aliens when in fact they wanted to low key meet some humans, and in fact my friend and I were the only humans here, despite everyone claiming otherwise.
Saying that, we were weirdly popular that night. Not that we're not fun. We most certainly are (well, my mate is at least. Apparently my version of fun doesn't translate well with others) it's just that we weren't so well known or notorious (despite my jaw breaking) that people sought us out.
We were plied with canapes, free drinks, compliments were made on our hair, makeup and outfits. It was a bit bizarre. At one point I half thought about suggesting to Cal that we make a break for it, but one look at her brightly shining face snuffed that idea. She was loving every minute of it and I couldn't bear to be the one to tear her away from it.
A fact I immediately regretted the next morning when upon waking to discover I had the most horrendous headache known to man (and woman) and, when I opened my eyes, realised I was not in my own home, or even in a random man or woman's apartment (although the fashion scene was so minuscule these days, it was very hard to find a true 'random' anymore. At least it minimised the chances of being axe murdered). In fact, the whole room gave off a sterile, metallic vibe that just screamed 'You've been taken prisoner by a mad man and any minute now you're going to hear a voice telling you to cut your own arm off with the conveniently placed chainsaw'.
I sat bolt upright, even with my agonised head screaming at me every millimeter of the way, and surveyed the room.
Ok, no creepy cameras, no ominously placed sharp instruments and I wasn't handcuffed, tied or chained to anything. Yes, the whole room was still done in that kind of 'brushed steel' effect but now that wakefulness was creeping into my consciousness, I thought it might just be the style of the room, rather than this being some sort of secret lab. There was a glass of water on the bedside table. It had a note saying 'drink me.'
Cute.
And also, no thanks. No matter how much my body craved it right now.
I clambered out of the bed and wandered about the room. It was small but comfortable. The first door I opened lead into a bathroom. Jackpot. I was still in last night's clothes with last night's makeup smeared everywhere, so the first order of the day was definitely a shower. I poked my head back out of the door and clocked my 'larger than fashionable' handbag. Perfect. I pulled out my spare pair of underwear, my emergency scrunchable t-shirt dress (which i could fold down to the size of a rolled pair of socks, perfect for when you weren't sure where you would wake up the next day, I never left home without it), my makeup wipes and my travelling toothbrush.
After half an hour in the bathroom, I was feeling much better and looked....clean and kind of presentable, if not very fashion conscious.
Now, all I had to do was figure out where the hell I was. The note itself gave me no clue, having been typed rather than written. I still hadn't touched the water, just in case, and instead had drunk out of the bathroom taps, after smelling and cautiously tasting the water that came out. It seemed ok, and I don't think my hangover would have let me go any further without some form of liquid.
No one had been in to check on me, or give me orders or anything. They also hadn't taken my phone - not that that was a lot of good seeing as there was absolutely no signal wherever we were.
There were also no windows in the room.
I decided to be brave and open the door that wasn't the bathroom or a cupboard.
The handle turned easily under my hand and opened onto a bare corridor, which continued the whole 'brushed steel' theme. Seeing no other options, and no people to help or hinder me, I decided to walk along it.
The lighting remained constant, although where it came from I couldn't tell you as I could see no light fixtures. I kept walking. There were doors along the corridor, but they were all shut with no indication as to where they led. I didn't yet feel confident enough to try opening one.
Soon, I could tell that the corridor was ever so gently sloping up and the end of it was getting brighter. Finally, I sped up, excited, maybe there was someone there who could tell me what the hell was going on.
The corridor opened into a wide room, with huge windows along each side - clearly a viewing platform of some kind. Cal was there, in her emergency dress and looking far more bright eyed and bushy tailed than she had any right to be after all those slammers she'd downed last night. She was standing in front of one of the windows, gazing out in awe at the huge expanse of stars laid out around us, slipping past us actually as the building appeared to be in transit.
I went up and stood next to her, staring out at the starscape beyond.
"Cal," I eventually said. "Did you manage to get us kidnapped by aliens?"
She turned to me and gave me her brightest grin. "Yup. Told you yellow was the way to go."
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