[There are plenty of art supplies here, celebrating all manner of creative pursuits. Cantarella might be more inclined to pick up a sketchpad if there were more plants on campus than the obvious. Her recipes at home are dotted with figures, but roses get a bit boring to draw.
She does have a small pad of paper on her person--and a charcoal pencil to go with it--but save for a few scribbles, the current page is blank. She's looking through the bars containing the roses on the other side.]
Curious. [That's all she says at first. Then, in a voice that is so mild one would never believe the person sharing the studio with her had just ripped out several throats after being ripped to pieces herself--to say nothing of the screaming--she adds:] These ones are white.
[ It was a child-like activity, laying on the floor and allowing the colours to take her where she liked. Ryoshu would have disapproved of her sense of "art" but it kept the haunting fears at bay, that maybe she had truly failed in her goal before she had a chance to truly grasp it]
Verily...the only white ones here.
[ Don Quixote peers through the bars, her curiousity piqued]
I wonder why that is. Perhaps they are as a blank canvas, only waiting to be filled with color... [And yet, they're behind a barrier, so she can't be convinced that's the case.] Or perhaps they were planted by another hand.
[Cantarella glances over her shoulder, fingers loosely gathered at her chin. Is she...coloring? Whatever's spilling out of her hands and pencils, it looks colorful and fanciful from afar. Such fancies can be a refuge.]
We should all be so fortunate to reach that kind of inner peace.
[Her fanart...That's beautiful. There's very little trace of the woman who went on a rampage and fled the room. But the mental toll of it, Cantarella imagines, remains obscured beneath the veil of the calm surface.
She rests her hip against a work table, observing.]
[Ah, has this wonderful lady taken an interest in her work? She brightens visibly and holds up her drawing of Siegfriend. It is obviously amateurish on the cartoon-like side. He's on a horse for some reason. The horse looks like the curse of 3D assets in webtoons]
Ah, a tribute to a most wonderous Fixer back home! I hath heard FAN-ART is an excellent way to send your admiration to people.
[Resilience does come in all forms, she supposes.]
I used to imagine stories in which I was an adventuring princess. [So...she gets it? Is this some kind of attempt at empathizing? It does sound a little like someone who has abandoned her dreams talking to a child who is yet full of them.] What does a Fixer do?
Hoooh? Thy wishes to know of the legends of Fixers? Verily, I shall endeavour to inform thou thoroughly for they are stories that must be told.
[ when she speaks, the sparkles practically leap from her voice]
Fixers art heroes of justice, upholding peace with chivalry.
Forsooth, they hath made names from thine selves across the many districts of the City, each serving an Office with its own code and values. Verily, one cannot underestimate their prowess or skill for they must taketh missions that many tremble before. 'Tis not unsual for a grand Fixer such as Siegfried to be called upon to save the denziens of K corporation from the treacherous villainy of Abnormalities. Nay, it its natural to their day to day life to face down all horrors of the world, for the peace of the citizens.
But the truly most spectacular of the Fixers are those bestowed with Colors, for their prowess hath been acknowledged by the greats of the Hana association. Incomparable in reputation and skill, my personal idol is the Purple Tear, said to be capable of traversing time and space. Fie, it pains me to share I hath yet to cross paths with her but if fate willing--
[ Don will keep going. Does Canterella wish to press x to skip?]
[Unlike some gacha games of note, Cantarella's actually did institute a quest skip button—
But no, she indulges this story for a significant length of time, listening patiently until finally Don Quixote creates a wedge in which she can speak, either because she's become breathless or is waiting for some input from someone else.]
And what of your deeds? Surely they have merits of their own.
Uoooh--ah? Thou wishes to learn of mine deeds? [Look at her face! She's even more excited than before. Cantarella, you are true noble and kind figure!!]
Verily, I hath many but...hm. I am uncertain of where to begin.
...indeed. It really is a fortunate thing, is it not, to have companions. Rocinante is a gift from my Father that seals my true form. Shall I start there?
[Now that she isn't living two centuries in Oblivion, she can actually answer that question with great enthusiasm]
Yes! Father is a most wonderous figure...my hero. The hero of many, even if he hath forgotten his own good deeds, and the little colours he brought into the world.
[That he's forgotten something so important seems to echo their own situation, but this seems the wrong time to bring it up, no matter how noteworthy Cantarella currently finds it.]
Yet you still remember those deeds. You have thus become their safekeeper, in a way. Does that feel heroic?
[It's a pretty sentiment, though her smile certainly flickers a bit wider when Don Quixote mentions turning dreams into her own. There's no reason to be defined by someone else's no matter how dealy you hold them.]
... Yes. I ascended to my position in order to preserve those dreams.
[Perhaps a noble enough wish for Don Quixote to appreciate as one of her invigorating stories, though whether Cantarella's freedom is included in that description remains unclear.]
I wish to one day see my family restored, fully liberated from its lingering bonds and able to break through the surface of the deep sea.
The weight should at least be carried by someone who can stomach bearing it.
[And that someone...well, that someone has become her.]
It also comes with its share of obligations and troubles, and the name will always attract scorn. [They're the words of someone who could be quite haughty and conceited, but she doesn't much project that beyond her unyielding poise and elegance.]
[Don Quixote is easily redirected by her Most Favourite Topic Ever]
Yes!! Some work under the bright rays of the sun, and yet, there are places they may not tread. Thus, the Fixers who venture into the dark to take on burdens others may not are just as respectable and awe-inspiring.
[Cute little figures. One is a lady? dressed in purple. The Purple Tear is written next to that drawing in bold.]
[Well, then, that makes two purple ladies… and perhaps even two of them who have something to do with tears.]
Light shines brightest in the dark, hm? Even in the most impenetrable shadows, a soft light can still reach, ever so slight. Not like a brilliant star, hm?
[Don might just be that brilliant star.]
I do appreciate this chance to understand you better. Should we make the most of it?
[ Oh. Yes. Everything had slipped from her mind the moment she began to talk. Funny, that. Don's eyes twinkle even more as she gets up off the ground and holds out a hand]
'Tis a touch strange, I believe, I enjoyed learning what I could from you too.
[Is that a hand extended to be shaken? Cantarella takes it gracefully but with the firmness of someone who tries to remain in staunch control of her deals.]
Cantarella Fisalia. What a charming young lady you are.
[That does actually seem to surprise her, given that Cantarella's eyebrows move up towards her hairline. She'll have to get a much more thorough understanding of the badge profiles on those gravesites, if she hadn't planned to already, with everything else going on.
From this day forward, she'll be certain to check almost everything on them and keep her records rather meticulously.]
Hmm, but how youthful would you say your spirit is?
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week 1, monday
She does have a small pad of paper on her person--and a charcoal pencil to go with it--but save for a few scribbles, the current page is blank. She's looking through the bars containing the roses on the other side.]
Curious. [That's all she says at first. Then, in a voice that is so mild one would never believe the person sharing the studio with her had just ripped out several throats after being ripped to pieces herself--to say nothing of the screaming--she adds:] These ones are white.
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Verily...the only white ones here.
[ Don Quixote peers through the bars, her curiousity piqued]
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[Cantarella glances over her shoulder, fingers loosely gathered at her chin. Is she...coloring? Whatever's spilling out of her hands and pencils, it looks colorful and fanciful from afar. Such fancies can be a refuge.]
Are you at ease, noble knight?
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[ She's drawing fanart of her favourite Fixers, help]
I understand the purpose of art more clearly now.
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[Her fanart...That's beautiful. There's very little trace of the woman who went on a rampage and fled the room. But the mental toll of it, Cantarella imagines, remains obscured beneath the veil of the calm surface.
She rests her hip against a work table, observing.]
What is that?
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Ah, a tribute to a most wonderous Fixer back home! I hath heard FAN-ART is an excellent way to send your admiration to people.
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Do you aspire to rise to their example, the Fixers?
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[Sparkling!!! She's so excited now. Depression? What depression]
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I used to imagine stories in which I was an adventuring princess. [So...she gets it? Is this some kind of attempt at empathizing? It does sound a little like someone who has abandoned her dreams talking to a child who is yet full of them.] What does a Fixer do?
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Hoooh? Thy wishes to know of the legends of Fixers? Verily, I shall endeavour to inform thou thoroughly for they are stories that must be told.
[ when she speaks, the sparkles practically leap from her voice]
Fixers art heroes of justice, upholding peace with chivalry.
Forsooth, they hath made names from thine selves across the many districts of the City, each serving an Office with its own code and values. Verily, one cannot underestimate their prowess or skill for they must taketh missions that many tremble before. 'Tis not unsual for a grand Fixer such as Siegfried to be called upon to save the denziens of K corporation from the treacherous villainy of Abnormalities. Nay, it its natural to their day to day life to face down all horrors of the world, for the peace of the citizens.
But the truly most spectacular of the Fixers are those bestowed with Colors, for their prowess hath been acknowledged by the greats of the Hana association. Incomparable in reputation and skill, my personal idol is the Purple Tear, said to be capable of traversing time and space. Fie, it pains me to share I hath yet to cross paths with her but if fate willing--
[ Don will keep going. Does Canterella wish to press x to skip?]
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But no, she indulges this story for a significant length of time, listening patiently until finally Don Quixote creates a wedge in which she can speak, either because she's become breathless or is waiting for some input from someone else.]
And what of your deeds? Surely they have merits of their own.
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Verily, I hath many but...hm. I am uncertain of where to begin.
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It takes a great deal of resistance, I imagine, to resist something that calls to you with an unseverable pull. Perhaps there?
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I am afraid that is not mine control alone. Not anymore.
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[There's a reason she made the Velvet Dream available to everyone she could, spreading its sweet dreams across Rinascita.]
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...indeed. It really is a fortunate thing, is it not, to have companions. Rocinante is a gift from my Father that seals my true form. Shall I start there?
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Is your father dear to you? That seems like an excellent place to start. [Perhaps she'll learn more about him, too.]
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Yes! Father is a most wonderous figure...my hero. The hero of many, even if he hath forgotten his own good deeds, and the little colours he brought into the world.
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Yet you still remember those deeds. You have thus become their safekeeper, in a way. Does that feel heroic?
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[A pause, as she considers]
Doth thou have dreams thou wish to safeguard and make true?
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... Yes. I ascended to my position in order to preserve those dreams.
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May I ask what thine dreams are?
[Share!!! Stories sustain her]
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[Perhaps a noble enough wish for Don Quixote to appreciate as one of her invigorating stories, though whether Cantarella's freedom is included in that description remains unclear.]
I wish to one day see my family restored, fully liberated from its lingering bonds and able to break through the surface of the deep sea.
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'Tis a wonderful, yet heavy dream you carry.
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[And that someone...well, that someone has become her.]
It also comes with its share of obligations and troubles, and the name will always attract scorn. [They're the words of someone who could be quite haughty and conceited, but she doesn't much project that beyond her unyielding poise and elegance.]
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[ They are words that befit someone of her bearing and composure; Don Quixote had never been ruffled by conceit regardless]
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Besides, a great deal of it is true.
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For thine family or for thee directly?
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[She doubts that Don Quixote will be very phased by that, though. It'd take more to unseat the woman who so quickly and boldly called her noble.]
The truth becomes twisted easily through rumor...but sometimes a little shade can help a plant grow stronger.
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Forsooth, the best of heroes often work in the shadows.
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Yes!! Some work under the bright rays of the sun, and yet, there are places they may not tread. Thus, the Fixers who venture into the dark to take on burdens others may not are just as respectable and awe-inspiring.
[Cute little figures. One is a lady? dressed in purple. The Purple Tear is written next to that drawing in bold.]
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Light shines brightest in the dark, hm? Even in the most impenetrable shadows, a soft light can still reach, ever so slight. Not like a brilliant star, hm?
[Don might just be that brilliant star.]
I do appreciate this chance to understand you better. Should we make the most of it?
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[ Oh. Yes. Everything had slipped from her mind the moment she began to talk. Funny, that. Don's eyes twinkle even more as she gets up off the ground and holds out a hand]
'Tis a touch strange, I believe, I enjoyed learning what I could from you too.
[Mysterious Purple Lady]
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Cantarella Fisalia. What a charming young lady you are.
["Young."]
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[Call her Don, Donqui, all work. She shakes it back firmly]
Ah, I must correct thee on one thing though. I am some centuries old.
[not young!! Only one person can call her Chiquita]
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From this day forward, she'll be certain to check almost everything on them and keep her records rather meticulously.]
Hmm, but how youthful would you say your spirit is?
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Then you are surely a young lady at heart.
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[ she will take it seriously!]
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Whatever practice you're using, it's certainly worked out it your favor thus far.
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[Surely this makes sense!]