wake me up when September ends [OTA + closed prompts]

[not_the_last]

Who: Cassandra de Rolo, OTA + closed prompts
When: September
Where: Around the Serena Eterna
What: Flowers and their curious effects
Warnings: Game-typical angst; further content warnings in headers as they come up. The prompts below are occurring in no particular order over the course of the month.

1. summer has come and passed; the innocent can never last

Vivid purple-blue and yellow pansies nod at her from where they've twined up the banister along the stairwell, almost brushing her shoulder as she hurries by.

Later -- well, Cassandra isn't in large crowds very often these days, is she? But someone at the buffet on this particular morning may overhear the murmur you don't need more than one slice; someone in just the right part of the Promenade a little later may overhear there's a clear path to the stairwell if he comes this way; someone passing by Sundries in the next five minutes may overhear still need to talk to Valdis about the gun.

2. ring out the bells again, like we did when spring began

In a corner of the library there's a spreading cluster of the tiny white flowers of baby's breath, looking sweet and harmless.

On a comfortable chair not very far from that point is a pile of cloth that might, on closer study, resolve itself into a dark grey skirt, a white blouse, a blue and grey patterned waistcoat, and a leather belt with a bag attached on one side and a sheathed rapier on the other. The pile is oddly arranged, as though the person wearing the clothes had vanished from inside them while still sitting there; as though to support this image, a pair of sturdy brown boots is on the floor in front of the chair.

On top of the pile is a two-inch-tall Cassandra, bundled in in the stiff and voluminous folds of a dainty silk handkerchief, struggling to press buttons on a phone that is now bigger than she is.

(The screen currently reads ERIN ITS CA)

[Note: this prompt is not closed to Erin! Anyone is welcome to happen upon tiny Cass while she's trying to text.]

3. drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are [closed to Phil]

A patch of poppies has sprung up on the rooftop that's one of the Serena's highest points, where few can climb. With the number of passengers that can fly, that's less a guarantee than it might be, but Cassandra still seeks solitude up there every so often -- and today, that means she falls asleep there, with vivid red petals pooled around her dark head.

In the dream she's twelve again, lined up with her brothers and sisters in their finery, excited about the visiting strangers and the welcome feast that's about to begin.

4. seven years have gone so fast

Wildcard! If you want to talk to Cassandra at a point where she is not affected by flower nonsense, feel free. Message me here or on discord if you'd like an individual prompt.

Comments

[not_the_last]

"If you'd come with me, then?"

(The faintest murmur: You do realize that sounds like a trap.)

And she adds, not too hurriedly, "Any place that would be suitable to examine it -- I would suggest the library, but wherever you think best."

[redlightgreenlight]

Valdis arches a brow.

"What's wrong, Cassandra? You're acting strange."

Maybe not strange, but she feels off somehow.

[goodweather]

Phil takes only a moment before he surges upwards with his bloodied sword pointed at the one holding Ludwig.

That, he only tries once. Sneaking past is something he tries more. He'll get it right.

Going directly up to Cassandra is surely not the best path to resolving this entire mess, but knowing what's going on in every place will help him in the long run, and anyway it's only a thought he has at the end. He always forgets exactly where she is, at the start. Always forgets Anders' betrayal until he does it. Something about this loop isn't very sticky. That bothers him; but like the faint impressions of an overworked sketch you couldn't quite erase, things begin to pile on, impressing a shape. He'll make it work. Eventually.

Killing Anders stops being a priority after the 5th time. It's already starting to get easier to focus.

Phil (finally) slips into the minstrel gallery, silent as he can will it, his lone owlish eye gleaming red in the dark with reflected light. He's miserably aware in the darkness; all of her petrified form is visible to him.

He crouches low, keeping distance. Whispers: "Your Ladyship."

[yourexoduslaughing]

"They do! It's like, a total crapshoot, but there's totally worlds where it's just your world with a minor - or major - change! It might even be every dimension has a million different variations on minor themes but they don't seem to show up as much. Like in theory, there's a million versions of this world we're in where it changes depending on which flowers we got hit with, or even what we had for breakfast, but in practice? We mostly saw big changes coming through the elevator, and I've yet to meet another version of me! Though it would be cool if they existed!"

Into the Sand Dollar they go, and Flan automatically vaults the front counter, realizing halfway through that there's a tiny Cass in her front pocket. WHOOPS! She gets a hand up, just to make sure Cassandra doesn't fly out. "But! They might, and like, they just didn't show up to me! We'd have to ask actual inter-dimensional travellers what the situation is!"

[actuallyawolf]

Ylva blinks, hard, trying to work out what she just heard. "I mean, yeah, they'd be fine," she says, uncertain. "They're pretty important, goodberries."

She stares for a moment, biting her lip. "How're you doing that thing with your voice?"

[not_the_last]

Oh, there's a great deal one can do in an otherwise empty castle dollhouse in twenty minutes.

Which is why when Erin emerges, she's going to hear some odd clinking noises coming from the interior of the castle, along with the very tiny but strangely loud sound of shuffling feet.

[not_the_last]

"Strange?" Her brow furrows.

And her voice sounds clearly from somewhere in midair: She's suspicious. / Suspicious of what? I haven't done anything!

[not_the_last]

The tiniest sound emerges as she recoils from his unexpected voice, something between a yelp and a whimper, forcibly silenced almost before it comes out. She stares wildly into the dark, unable to see more than that faint red glow of an eye.

But she's seen it before, in rare instances, and after a long moment of horrified shock she's able to identify the combination of eye and voice.

"M-master Connors?" Her whisper is even lower than his, and shaking with strain.

[goodweather]

It wouldn't matter. She could speak no louder than the thud of her own racing heart and he would hear her.

"Yes." His third eyelid flicks; he approaches carefully, the faint brush of feathers making no sound as it passes over the floor. "My Lady, how--how did you--how did you get here? I thought..."

[not_the_last]

Cassandra feels the sudden tensing of muscle and braces automatically without knowing what she's bracing for, but the leap still probably would have jostled her badly if Flan hadn't steadied her. She doesn't yelp this time, but it's a near thing.

"If we meet any actual interdimensional travellers," she manages, regaining her composure, "there are any number of things I'd like to ask them. Most likely starting with asking if they can get us out of here, but yes, 'are there other versions of people in different versions of otherwise similar worlds' is an interesting one as well."

[not_the_last]

"With my --?"

Did I say that out loud? that same voice says, and again overlapping: "Did I say that out loud, about goodberries? I didn't mean to."

[crushed_pearls]

Closet door shuts, merry whistling, tiny grappling hooks made...

"...Cass?" Erin's being slightly louder than she has to be. "You still exploring the castle?"

For the love of God don't tell her Cass managed to get kidnapped out of the locked cabin.

[not_the_last]

Frozen in place, trembling, she watches him approach -- and then like a taut string snapping, she hurtles into him and clings like she's drowning.

"I s-sneaked out of bed," in a tiny tormented whisper against his shirt, "I, I wanted to s-see the rest of -- we have to help, we have to -- they hurt Papa --"

(She hasn't used Papa rather than Father for most of the past two years.)

[goodweather]

Kill the Lord de Rolo. God, oh, God.

He holds her close, as much a comfort for him to see her safe as it is for her to fold into him. It might almost make it ignorable, the sound of every blade and every heavy wet thunk and every scream and every broken bone and every catastrophe happening below.

"I don't--" Where do they go? What is he supposed to do? Not questions he should ask of a little scared girl. He takes a deep breath. They need to move. He'll put himself between her and every blade if he has to. Death doesn't scare him, but he won't see her killed, not on his account.

God--how do you handle a castle invasion? He probably wouldn't know even if he lived here his whole life. "Can we try and--and find more guards? The garrison? Someone?"

[not_the_last]

"Yes," her voice floats up, muffled but cheerful, "I'm in here, come look --"

In the castle's entryway there is now a little heap of equipment, mostly weapons of various sizes but also including two large (in proportion) carrysacks. Cassandra is just emerging from the little room beside the front entrance, dragging what appears to be an armor stand.

Oh yes -- she's also now wearing doll clothes. Specifically, a silk camisole-like shirt that was originally half of a set of pajamas, and a pair of dark gray trousers that are only slightly too big for her, cinched in at the waist with a green sash.

[be_seeing_you]

Strange. He is very sure he did not see her mouth move to form that second statement.

"Forgive me. I fear you may have been... thinking out loud."

[not_the_last]

A booming voice below -- not Lord Briarwood's voice, but one that sounds not quite human -- is shouting Stand down all of you, or she dies. A much smaller voice is sobbing and pleading no, Mama, no; an older voice cries out in pain and a young man shouts hoarsely, for Pelor's sake, he's an old man, you don't have to -- and cuts off with the sound of a blow.

Cassandra's still shaking like a leaf. "Captain H-Holbrook's down there," she whispers, "but m-maybe Captain Addisleigh, we could -- we could try the barracks --"

[goodweather]

It's taking so, so much for him to not choke, or throw up, or something. It's hard enough to even stand. Focus. Focus. This won't be his only shot, but he just needs to make sure that she isn't the one caught in the middle.

"Then let's go get him," he says, trying so very hard not to think about too lates. He straightens. He'd still clutch little Cassandra to his chest if he could, but her hand--he won't let go of her hand.

He pauses at the door. Listens close for footsteps, bless this gift of Cordis today that he can tell exactly how far away they are, and hurries through the way. Please grant them safe passage, please let Addisleigh be okay, the barracks somehow intact, please...

[not_the_last]

"Thinking out --" She cuts herself off, eyes wide.

You can hear me thinking?

[yourexoduslaughing]

"Oh yeah like, that's number one for all of us!" She grabs a plate and the smallest espresso cup there is, and a tiny itty bitty madeleine. "Are you a tea or coffee person? Or are you like me, and you like your drinks full of sugar and/or fruit? Also, yeah that's totally been a question I've asked! Haven't met anyone from one of my neighbouring universes yet, just the sister-ones like where Daisy's from, but I wanna meet another Flan! I figure depending on how this all works out, when I get back to my world, we'll just have to pass ourselves off as twins! I'll make the sacrifice and change my name!"

[redlightgreenlight]

She's hearing Cassandra's voice, but the woman's mouth isn't moving. Perhaps her earlier evaluation about speaking into the mind was accurate, except Cass doesn't know she is doing it.

"I think I can hear your thoughts."

[not_the_last]

Cassandra hurries along with him, her small cold hand clutching his.

There are footsteps spreading all through the upper corridors of the castle by now: marching, limping, charging, frantically fleeing. They pass two corpses, both house servants, before they run smack into the group of soldiers still searching for the missing de Rolo child.

There are three ways that encounter ends: the one where Phil is cut down, the one where they're both taken alive, and the one where he manages to dodge around them long enough to crash through a window with Cassandra in his arms.

It takes him several tries to find the angle that gets them out into the air without injuring his wings too badly to carry them.

[goodweather]

If Cassandra ever died in those falls, he wouldn’t know. It was always his spine that broke first.

The wind blasts them in frost as they crash through the window and enter freefall, cutting through his clothing. He twists, his muscle responds, and the wind catches. He pulls them up. With great strain, he pulls them up, just as he did when he caught Darcy from the sky, when he caught Henry in the end of the world. Guards holler after them, unable to pursue. No one below with a bow has spotted them against the darkening sky.

He can tell something is wrong in the barracks even before they close in.

[not_the_last]

"Tea for now, please? With -- is there honey?"

The tiny itty bitty madeleine is still about the size of her face, but at least it's small enough for her to handle. The tiny espresso cup is, unfortunately, still about the size of a washbasin for her.

Her eyebrows go up even more fractionally than usual, at the last thing Flan says. "... Do you think that might be possible?"

[yourexoduslaughing]

"There sure is!" Flan gets the hot water going and starts pulling up the teas, and the glass jar with the honey. They're going to have to think of something for her to drink out of since the espresso cup isn't cutting it, and Flan racks her brain.

"Yeah, totally! Like, it's obviously not a guarantee but it's as likely as anything else - maybe even more likely, depending on how we got copied here! Sometimes it's a lot easier to reverse something than to make something new! Anyway, going back probably also depends on what your relationship with yourself is life too. Not everyone is willing to share, even with a version of themselves!" She digs around, coming up with one of those instant creamers, holding it up to Cass to eyeball if it would work. It's still a little big. "In that case, you could probably change your name and become a whole other person, assuming you're not like, a known celebrity where you're from!"