[He's likely never seen her eyes so dark and narrow or heard her voice so oddly pitchy. It's rough at the moment.]
What is it that we keep being told over and over? We are here for the sin of wanting, that the hatred fueling this place is spawned from it. What else is wanting but intent that hasn't fully been resolved?
[Cantarella chafes her fingers together, looking down at her completely empty hand. Then, she lifts her head.]
Lavi. Dehya's memory isn't mine to tell and never was. So I will tell you mine. For the good of all, the Fisalia once made a regular and necessary sacrifice. To connect with and preserve the Divine, they needed to find girls with the strongest will, selecting them through trials in which these girls were made to poison one another, struggle, survive, and die, until only one remained.
When I was down there, with all those other girls, my awakened powers hid them from the prying eyes of the abyss so that I would be crowned the sole "survivor" in the wake of their elimination.
And when I became head, I put an end to the trials altogether. No one can make medicine from poison and the other way around better than a Fisalia. No more needless sacrifice. There may be more than one moral to this story, but first and foremost, understand that I have always sought another way.
[ oh certainly not but he always got an impression that there was something lurking under the surface. all of the women here had dark secrets that they held close to their chests and didn't want people seeing. what he hadn't expected, though, was for cantarella to divulge her secret to him...though the contents of it made sense.
it explained so many things about her, gave weight to her words and actions... whereas lavi had walked on the line between companionship and indifference, cantarella held a sincerity to her actions even if they were expressed in ways that were atypical or saddled with something else along with it. it's only when she's done speaking does lavi begin his response—his voice neutral but strained. ]
...and yet, knowing all of that, it's what they still wanted to test and believe that the contracts would make sure that nothing would go wrong. Or, if things didn't end as they hoped, then— [ mind, despite everything he has been saying, he has stood with none of them. it's likely why they kept this secret to themselves, but his frustrations came out regardless. ] I'm sure that's what they were thinking, too.
In their way of imagining things and understanding what was being told, they thought that this could have been another way of sorts. Probably. I won't speak more for them than I already have, especially not when I've never agreed with it.
[ never ever, absolutely not, if there was another way—if they just understood things better. if he could express himself more appropriately. he shakes his head. ]
Thank you for sharing your secret with me, Cantarella. [ he grows back to his normal size and mulls over his next step... it's only fair, so— ] If you're interested, then I can also share mine with you. I feel that it's only fair that I offer mine.
trial kneecapped me so bad on this but i'm sneaking in during endgame anyway because i want
Of course it is. It's precisely the kind of thinking... that makes some people the ones who pave the paths for others.
[She still can't help but wonder, had she held onto Dehya's secret, the way the possessive and covetous voice of the deep wanted her to, if this would not have happened.
...The trouble is that Dehya seems to have always been that type of person, regardless of what was taken or returned to her. Maybe that's the message after all.]
I'd never force you to compromise something so tender unless you wanted to share it willingly. This isn't a business transaction... though I know you better as a shadow than I knew you as a boy, so perhaps I'd like to hear it for that alone.
[Because she's interested in him, and not because she's cutting a deal for information.]
[ she says she only knew him as a shadow than as a boy, but it didn't matter, really. knowing one meant knowing both. a truth that she would learn shortly. ]
I've made it pretty obvious that I'm a chronicler of sorts, haven't I? A person who loves reading, history, and learning all that there is wherever I go—maintaining the perspective of both sides of any story or event. A Bookman.
[ a title; a role; a name to define him and the lifestyle he has welcomed and walked. though it also meant that it was a path that barely left an impression on anyone's mind, existing on both sides to any event. ]
If you haven't already guessed it, but in order to do that correctly, I couldn't afford myself to form bonds or to stay in a place for too long. A true account of history can't have any bias. So, once I finished a "recording", I would move on—discard the people who I met, the person that they knew... A name, a person, that history would forget and no ink would be wasted on them.
[ even the people who might have said they wouldn't have forgotten would. they would be forgotten by time and the person they met wasn't even real. just an account, a reference, for what had come. he speaks with a coldness in his voice, numb and even. ]
The "Lavi" you know here is the 49th version of myself that I've had to recreate for my current recording. A practiced act to make sure that I could blend in with everyone without drawing too much attention to myself. [ living so lightly that his touch barely reaches people. to leave only the briefest of impressions that no one is supposed to remember. a temporary friendly face. ] ...but this is a failed version of myself as a Bookman because I started to question what I was recording. I found myself caring about the people who I met; the people I traveled with. I prioritized them and got myself involved far more than I needed to.
I don't know who "Lavi" really is, but whoever they are, they've made connections with people who can no longer be just ink on paper.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
What is it that we keep being told over and over? We are here for the sin of wanting, that the hatred fueling this place is spawned from it. What else is wanting but intent that hasn't fully been resolved?
[Cantarella chafes her fingers together, looking down at her completely empty hand. Then, she lifts her head.]
Lavi. Dehya's memory isn't mine to tell and never was. So I will tell you mine. For the good of all, the Fisalia once made a regular and necessary sacrifice. To connect with and preserve the Divine, they needed to find girls with the strongest will, selecting them through trials in which these girls were made to poison one another, struggle, survive, and die, until only one remained.
When I was down there, with all those other girls, my awakened powers hid them from the prying eyes of the abyss so that I would be crowned the sole "survivor" in the wake of their elimination.
And when I became head, I put an end to the trials altogether. No one can make medicine from poison and the other way around better than a Fisalia. No more needless sacrifice. There may be more than one moral to this story, but first and foremost, understand that I have always sought another way.
no subject
it explained so many things about her, gave weight to her words and actions... whereas lavi had walked on the line between companionship and indifference, cantarella held a sincerity to her actions even if they were expressed in ways that were atypical or saddled with something else along with it. it's only when she's done speaking does lavi begin his response—his voice neutral but strained. ]
...and yet, knowing all of that, it's what they still wanted to test and believe that the contracts would make sure that nothing would go wrong. Or, if things didn't end as they hoped, then— [ mind, despite everything he has been saying, he has stood with none of them. it's likely why they kept this secret to themselves, but his frustrations came out regardless. ] I'm sure that's what they were thinking, too.
In their way of imagining things and understanding what was being told, they thought that this could have been another way of sorts. Probably. I won't speak more for them than I already have, especially not when I've never agreed with it.
[ never ever, absolutely not, if there was another way—if they just understood things better. if he could express himself more appropriately. he shakes his head. ]
Thank you for sharing your secret with me, Cantarella. [ he grows back to his normal size and mulls over his next step... it's only fair, so— ] If you're interested, then I can also share mine with you. I feel that it's only fair that I offer mine.
trial kneecapped me so bad on this but i'm sneaking in during endgame anyway because i want
[She still can't help but wonder, had she held onto Dehya's secret, the way the possessive and covetous voice of the deep wanted her to, if this would not have happened.
...The trouble is that Dehya seems to have always been that type of person, regardless of what was taken or returned to her. Maybe that's the message after all.]
I'd never force you to compromise something so tender unless you wanted to share it willingly. This isn't a business transaction... though I know you better as a shadow than I knew you as a boy, so perhaps I'd like to hear it for that alone.
[Because she's interested in him, and not because she's cutting a deal for information.]
me crying of the timing of this
I've made it pretty obvious that I'm a chronicler of sorts, haven't I? A person who loves reading, history, and learning all that there is wherever I go—maintaining the perspective of both sides of any story or event. A Bookman.
[ a title; a role; a name to define him and the lifestyle he has welcomed and walked. though it also meant that it was a path that barely left an impression on anyone's mind, existing on both sides to any event. ]
If you haven't already guessed it, but in order to do that correctly, I couldn't afford myself to form bonds or to stay in a place for too long. A true account of history can't have any bias. So, once I finished a "recording", I would move on—discard the people who I met, the person that they knew... A name, a person, that history would forget and no ink would be wasted on them.
[ even the people who might have said they wouldn't have forgotten would. they would be forgotten by time and the person they met wasn't even real. just an account, a reference, for what had come. he speaks with a coldness in his voice, numb and even. ]
The "Lavi" you know here is the 49th version of myself that I've had to recreate for my current recording. A practiced act to make sure that I could blend in with everyone without drawing too much attention to myself. [ living so lightly that his touch barely reaches people. to leave only the briefest of impressions that no one is supposed to remember. a temporary friendly face. ] ...but this is a failed version of myself as a Bookman because I started to question what I was recording. I found myself caring about the people who I met; the people I traveled with. I prioritized them and got myself involved far more than I needed to.
I don't know who "Lavi" really is, but whoever they are, they've made connections with people who can no longer be just ink on paper.