[His expression falls unusual again. Unfocused, frustrated, with a tension not unlike watching a wild animal on the alert. Not towards her, but to something else.]
Overwhelming. [Clipped. Withdrawn. Very, very out of character.] I'd prefer we don't talk about it.
...
Like I said... I don't think it's related to what we saw on that stage.
[As he becomes more irritated, her hand lifts, a fleeting thought of reaching out to soothe, but lowers it again to her lap. It's unlike him, and unlike their neutral agreement to share what they learned.]
Ah. It's much too late for objectivity, then. You sound as if you've succumbed.
[The shift is a sight to behold, and oddly, despite his resistance to talking about it, Cantarella feels like she's learned enough. He is enmeshed with something.]
[He has to grit his teeth a bit as he ducks his head down, like whatever passes over him is a wave, something that overtakes the careful control he normally keeps himself under.
[It's a couple more breathes before he finally seems he's righted himself, an apology unspoken in his eyes as he runs a hand across his bruised features.]
...That's the best word I can come up for it, at least. The body as a vessel, the blade a manifestation. Like the plucking of our roses, but of a different sort.
[It's troubling to see, but Cantarella keeps her calm and waits coolly for Solomon's temperament to cool as well. Self-control is necessary for her, as perhaps it is for him... But what about the ones who have much less of it?
Her nod is brief; to say anything just yet would drag it out. Consider it dropped.
But there's a great deal still to uncover.]
Even with all the chaos, their bond was clear. [An Actual bond, even...] But then... why those bonds? What do they contribute to the ritual?
That, I can't begin to guess. Asking Louis, Dehya, or APPle might be the most promising lead, when they've all had time to rest. Only they will know what feelings went through them, or why their bonds felt strong.
[He pauses, as though debating whether to say more, but seems to dismiss it.]
I want to check on Dehya anyway, when there is time. She's a sensible one.
Well. [She pauses, tactfully navigating this.] I had thought it was the shock of the flames, at first, but...
At least two of the dancers on the stage were in sync. [One very much was not, from the way APPLe sank to the ground as if the invisible string holding him aloft was severed.
Perhaps Solomon really wishes to speak to Dehya about that, actually, to get to the bottom of that reason? The rest of it can wait a moment, though she does not at the idea that Dehya is sensible; there's more to say, possibly, but the threads of Amethyst dorm's connection may be a bit slippery to untangle.]
From appearances, yes. But within the chaos, it's hard to tell anything objective. I'd rather hear it from a firm source, and we have already run out of one of those options. [Smashcut to Tuesday where we've lost another one, lolololololol. :(]
Unless you think you've found a bigger pattern there.
[His interview pool is about to get a whole lot smaller...sad.]
Right you are. We can only say what we saw, not what happened. [The two are, so often, very different. She knows it all too well.] It's not big enough to be a pattern, nor would I be elated to see any repeats. Better to ask. I wonder just what she'll feel comfortable sharing with you.
How ominous. You've certainly mounted the tension.
[Though the setup is still lighthearted, Cantarella's body language becomes more serious, and she leans forward. Requests that have to be so introduced are often heavy ones. Maybe he can suspect she's carried such heavy things before.]
As long as my cooperation can be held until I've heard it. I do have a tendency to seek my own way of doing things.
[He exhales slowly, as though gathering his thoughts, before continuing in a smooth tone.]
Cantarella... If I'm to be found dead at any point, I would like you to please work with a second party on containing any items found on my person. Nothing I possess on my death is to be taken by anyone - anyone - but that party or yourself... specifically because I am choosing to trust you both to keep the goals of the many in mind.
[A beat. In the way he looks at her, hopefully she can tell his wording is exactly the way it is for a reason, and that there is a lot left unsaid in her choice to hold her support.]
If you are holding, despite what I've told you... then know I cannot explain why just yet. And I will not be able to explain truthfully, under any circumstance, until we're free.
[...]
I know it is a lot to ask. But are you willing to do this for me?
[She listens intently, thumb crossing her lower lip a few times as she does. Her tongue is feeling very raw.]
You do already know how I feel about senseless sacrifice, Solomon, so I should hope you've thought carefully about this.
[If he tries to reply or take her words as an answer right away, Cantarella will hold her hand aloft, gently, because she's still speaking.]
For three dozen generations, the Fisalia have safeguarded Imperator's legacy, as the divine being They were before the dark abyss assimilated Them and spread its spiritual plague in the guise of faiths, seeding absolute control and paranoia in Rinascita's people. [Does the latter sound familiar? Hopefully, he follows.]
To achieve this, generations of their girls underwent torturous trials. A necessary sacrifice. These trials... [The pause is brief, but it's the pause of someone navigating something unspeakable or something that should be but is not there.] ... ended when I became matriarch, and as long as I am matriarch, they will not exist again.
Do you intend the many to include the many who would come after us?
[Good thing she does lift that hand, because he sure was opening his mouth to retort a little! But he obediently snaps it shut and lets her continue.
Mm. She does feel very strongly about this, doesn't she? But it does twist something inside him, in a good way. That he chose correctly, for something like this.]
You worry so grandly. [It's a little longsuffering, how it teases, but he draws himself serious.] I don't intend it to be a sacrifice. You have my word on that. But it is not something I can promise will extend past our Troupe. I don't have the power I once did to enforce something like that.
Think of it as... lifeboats, for a storm. We may not need them, but they have been rigged for a possibility, and nothing more.
All I need is for my failsafe to not end up in the hands of someone who would turn it on another, rather than ensuring those boats don't get swept away by the storm before they can be used.
[Her eyes narrow a little bit at that long-suffering old man response of his. The grandpa energy is definitely beginning to waft off of him.
Still, that puts the greatest of her concerns at bay. From their first true conversation, she hadn't thought that throwing kindly on the pyre without trying to define their own way was how either of them would play their roles.]
The encroaching tide is something I'm intimately familiar with keeping at bay. As is having a failsafe.
[Not surprising to hear. But he does tilt his head a little to look off to the side - off into the open space of the Rose Gardens they sit under. Exposed.]
That's as much as I can give you without an answer in return. I'm sorry.
[His eyes grow warm at the edges, silently thankful. But he stays silent, rummaging through his coat to pull out a deep blue pen covered in golden flowers, uncapping it.]
[He'll turn that hand over to write out a name on the surface of her palm.
"YUGAMU"]
They'll be on the lookout for my other pen. [His smile is even as he gestures with the flowered one in his hand. As in: not this one.] Don't halt them if they're insistent on taking it, please. It was by request.
Also: this ink is washable, so don't worry about it staining. [AKA, feel free to get rid of that little note as soon as you want.]
Gather them, regardless. I'd rather have some excuse of "he requested nostalgic memories buried with his roses" or something like that. If it takes eyes off the real purpose, then all the better for it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Overwhelming. [Clipped. Withdrawn. Very, very out of character.] I'd prefer we don't talk about it.
...
Like I said... I don't think it's related to what we saw on that stage.
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Ah. It's much too late for objectivity, then. You sound as if you've succumbed.
[The shift is a sight to behold, and oddly, despite his resistance to talking about it, Cantarella feels like she's learned enough. He is enmeshed with something.]
And what we saw was "agreement"?
1/???? idk 3 probably
Drop it.
2/???
An exhale. Another.]
3/3
...That's the best word I can come up for it, at least. The body as a vessel, the blade a manifestation. Like the plucking of our roses, but of a different sort.
a /???? in mine own pc...
Her nod is brief; to say anything just yet would drag it out. Consider it dropped.
But there's a great deal still to uncover.]
Even with all the chaos, their bond was clear. [An Actual bond, even...] But then... why those bonds? What do they contribute to the ritual?
just to keep u on your toes
[He pauses, as though debating whether to say more, but seems to dismiss it.]
I want to check on Dehya anyway, when there is time. She's a sensible one.
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At least two of the dancers on the stage were in sync. [One very much was not, from the way APPLe sank to the ground as if the invisible string holding him aloft was severed.
Perhaps Solomon really wishes to speak to Dehya about that, actually, to get to the bottom of that reason? The rest of it can wait a moment, though she does not at the idea that Dehya is sensible; there's more to say, possibly, but the threads of Amethyst dorm's connection may be a bit slippery to untangle.]
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Unless you think you've found a bigger pattern there.
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Right you are. We can only say what we saw, not what happened. [The two are, so often, very different. She knows it all too well.] It's not big enough to be a pattern, nor would I be elated to see any repeats. Better to ask. I wonder just what she'll feel comfortable sharing with you.
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...
I do have a, uh... request for you, though, Cantarella. If you don't mind hearing it.
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[Though the setup is still lighthearted, Cantarella's body language becomes more serious, and she leans forward. Requests that have to be so introduced are often heavy ones. Maybe he can suspect she's carried such heavy things before.]
As long as my cooperation can be held until I've heard it. I do have a tendency to seek my own way of doing things.
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[He exhales slowly, as though gathering his thoughts, before continuing in a smooth tone.]
Cantarella... If I'm to be found dead at any point, I would like you to please work with a second party on containing any items found on my person. Nothing I possess on my death is to be taken by anyone - anyone - but that party or yourself... specifically because I am choosing to trust you both to keep the goals of the many in mind.
[A beat. In the way he looks at her, hopefully she can tell his wording is exactly the way it is for a reason, and that there is a lot left unsaid in her choice to hold her support.]
If you are holding, despite what I've told you... then know I cannot explain why just yet. And I will not be able to explain truthfully, under any circumstance, until we're free.
[...]
I know it is a lot to ask. But are you willing to do this for me?
cw religious gaslighting, child abuse
You do already know how I feel about senseless sacrifice, Solomon, so I should hope you've thought carefully about this.
[If he tries to reply or take her words as an answer right away, Cantarella will hold her hand aloft, gently, because she's still speaking.]
For three dozen generations, the Fisalia have safeguarded Imperator's legacy, as the divine being They were before the dark abyss assimilated Them and spread its spiritual plague in the guise of faiths, seeding absolute control and paranoia in Rinascita's people. [Does the latter sound familiar? Hopefully, he follows.]
To achieve this, generations of their girls underwent torturous trials. A necessary sacrifice. These trials... [The pause is brief, but it's the pause of someone navigating something unspeakable or something that should be but is not there.] ... ended when I became matriarch, and as long as I am matriarch, they will not exist again.
Do you intend the many to include the many who would come after us?
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Mm. She does feel very strongly about this, doesn't she? But it does twist something inside him, in a good way. That he chose correctly, for something like this.]
You worry so grandly. [It's a little longsuffering, how it teases, but he draws himself serious.] I don't intend it to be a sacrifice. You have my word on that. But it is not something I can promise will extend past our Troupe. I don't have the power I once did to enforce something like that.
Think of it as... lifeboats, for a storm. We may not need them, but they have been rigged for a possibility, and nothing more.
All I need is for my failsafe to not end up in the hands of someone who would turn it on another, rather than ensuring those boats don't get swept away by the storm before they can be used.
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Still, that puts the greatest of her concerns at bay. From their first true conversation, she hadn't thought that throwing kindly on the pyre without trying to define their own way was how either of them would play their roles.]
The encroaching tide is something I'm intimately familiar with keeping at bay. As is having a failsafe.
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[Not surprising to hear. But he does tilt his head a little to look off to the side - off into the open space of the Rose Gardens they sit under. Exposed.]
That's as much as I can give you without an answer in return. I'm sorry.
Do I have your cooperation, my dear?
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I'll keep an eye on your effects. There are many priceless artifacts we're good at keeping in the castle.
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Your hand, please, if you could.
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"YUGAMU"]
They'll be on the lookout for my other pen. [His smile is even as he gestures with the flowered one in his hand. As in: not this one.] Don't halt them if they're insistent on taking it, please. It was by request.
Also: this ink is washable, so don't worry about it staining. [AKA, feel free to get rid of that little note as soon as you want.]
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I see.
[Cantarella brings her hand down and folds it in front of her with the other.]
To clarify, would you like custody of your effects to be split, or am I something of a backup?
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It cannot end up with our Dramaturge. And it cannot end up with Father.
sleepily....tags back just to move this so it's ready IN CASE FRIDAY IS BAD
What about the rest of your effects?
:) what no never
well friday was bad but not like that :(
sad trombones
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