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breaks this thang in

[personal profile] deathgripped 2026-05-07 07:42 am (UTC)(link)
[Sometime after reuniting with Phainon, and after revealing the "truth" to Mydei, the weight of the duty now on her shoulders seems to sink in. Unlike the other two heirs, she and Cyrene knew the truth of what was to come. And so, how to address that — or not address it, was crucial.

A gap between their story was only going to make things worse.

Perhaps that's why, early one morning, Castorice approaches Cyrene's door. Ordinarily, it would be a short walk, given that they had chosen to room near each other. Instead, Castorice had deigned to prepare tea for them first, and makes the venture from the kitchen instead.

Her knock is light, careful, and followed by her voice.]


Miss Cyrene, do you have some time to spare?
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[personal profile] deathgripped 2026-05-09 02:15 am (UTC)(link)
[At this point, Castorice doesn't think she'll ever get used to the warm way that Cyrene greets her, nor the sheer joy her presence evokes. Even if their time together had been almost nothing at all, adoration wells within her at even a glance. And that's to say nothing about how Cyrene speaks to her.

But she's getting distracted. She smiles through the heat in her cheeks and enters the room. She does her best not to look too closely at anything, lest she come off as trying to spy. She can't deny that a part of her does want to see how Cyrene has been living, though.

Instead, she sets the tray down and turns back to her friend wit ha little bow.]


I hope I am not interrupting anything important. I will admit that my visit is not entirely companionable. [Even if she might wish otherwise.] There was something I wanted to discuss with you as well.
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[personal profile] deathgripped 2026-05-12 02:26 am (UTC)(link)
[Each individual piece, no matter how small, is carefully catalogued. The flowers, at least, will help later. Castorice can collect a bouquet or five over the course of the next few weeks and present them each to Cyrene. If she times it right, she'll do it just as the flowers begin to decay.

Or perhaps finding seeds would be better, and beginning a garden?

... It takes her a moment to realize how off track she's gotten — about as long as it takes for Cyrene to motion for her to sit. She does as she's told, taking a cup for herself from the tray. With a free hand, she motions to the accompanying cream and sugar.]


I was not sure how you took your tea. I will remember for next time, though.

[And now, to the topic at hand. Does it flatter her that Cyrene reads her so easily? Or concern her that it's so obvious.]

You are correct, though. I wanted to ensure that we had our stories straight as to what we reveal. I can imagine that you are of the same frame of mind — neither Lord Mydei nor Lord Phainon should hear about what is to come.
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[personal profile] deathgripped 2026-05-12 07:55 am (UTC)(link)
[Meanwhile Castorice, silently bemoaning the fact that she had precious little time to do the same. What's a little silent, sapphic yearning between friends, right? Said yearning does indeed cataloguing how said tea is doctored. She notes the scant amount of sugar almost down to the granule.

Next time, Cyrene's tea will be prepared just so.]


I feel much the same. Though I am afraid that the... influence of this place has already made things difficult. [Guilt plagues her as she glances off toward a corner of the room.] Phainon witnessed a memory of one of my deaths at his hand. And Lord Mydei wished to know why my own hands did not harm him.

[She reaches for her own cup, hands fitfully toying with it but not yet lifting.]

To them both, I promised that Era Nova was at hand, that everything would be alright, and that I held nothing against Phainon in particular.

[A but hangs in the air, unspoken. She worries that it will not be enough, that it will only be a matter of time before more questions are asked.]
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[personal profile] deathgripped 2026-05-13 08:59 am (UTC)(link)
[The idea has Castorice troubled, to say the least. She can't say she disagrees with Cyrene — even if their memories were restored up until Era Nova, it would invoke an exceeding amount of pain, especially on Phainon's part. At least now, there was a level of plausible deniability.

On the other hand, though, they were essentially lying to their friends. The thought makes her uneasy, to say the least.]


It is. Considering all I have heard of this place, I suspect that is very much intentional. [What better way to strain bonds than to sow the seeds of doubt.] But if it is alright with you... allowing them to live in denial a little longer seems a kinder solution.

[Castorice knows far too much about tender mercies in the face of tragedy after all.]

Giving them small details — telling Lord Mydei that there are small miracles on the other side. [She holds her hand up as an example.] That should suffice for the time being. I have... been likening it to sweetening a child's medicine.
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[personal profile] deathgripped 2026-05-14 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
Even if the future is worth fighting for, it is different. And it came at a great cost.

[She holds Cyrene's gaze for a moment, briefly mournful. It wasn't just Phainon that lost something, after all.]

Of all people, they deserve the most rest. They have both fought, in their own ways, for a very long time. I would much rather them resent me for holding fragments of the truth back for their sake, than to disturb this little bit of rest they now have.

[Now, more than ever, she understands why her sister made the sacrifices she did. Giving up divinity for the sake of saving something precious made all the more sense, especially these days.]
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[personal profile] deathgripped 2026-05-22 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
[How many times had they told themselves that? Castorice had lost count. But every time, there had come a promise, the idea of a tomorrow at the end of the west wind, in the sea of flowers that she herself tended.

Yet even Castorice, servant of the afterlife, could not offer that.

It did not feel fair. So much so, that she cannot bring herself to respond to the sentiment. Not right now.]


We can only hope.

[Though she sounds a bit distracted still, a smile still ghosts across her lips. She thinks back to some of her poems, and then manages a bit of a laugh.]

I think, even if the road they have walked has been shorter, they deserve each other in this time. I will have to hope they manage to find the words. Or... [Her eyes glint.] Perhaps we ought to pull some strings behind the scenes?