[semi-open post: It's a kindness that the mind can go where it wishes]

[greentara]

Dark is winding its way to an end but Constance has been tolerating it well enough. She is used to eating sparingly and spending long amounts of time indoors, getting lost in threads of research and exploring the corners of the mansion. Having discovered three wooden crates filled with interesting looking papers, she promptly moved them into the room she has co-opted as a meditation room, not wanting to either lose them or bring any dust or debris into her own room.

The room is small and sparse, lit with a small brazier and a handful of candles. There are tatami mats covering the floor, bordered in a light green color that complements the cream wallpaper. A small wooden table holds some meditation supplies and a Tibetan mandala hangs on the wall but otherwise there isn't much else. Some marks on one of the wooden columns indicate that knife practice has also been an occupation of this room.

The brazier is lit and Constance unwittingly has a piece of cobweb stuck in her hair at the moment as she sifts through a handful of papers.

Comments

[greentara]

"Yes. The ancient Greeks and Romans used a simple method of loci along a path when they needed to remember a list of words or names. It is purposeful meditation rather than calming meditation."

[onthewillowsthere]

Purposeful, because either one is retrieving an object set inside the room of the memory or placing it.

"Is the method of reaching it very different from Hanguang-jun's?"

[greentara]

"It can be. I believe -- Hanguang-jun is it?¹ -- and I have similar meditation practices, though mine is a Tibetan branch of Buddhism."

¹Constance is well aware that Hanguang-jun is an honorific title, but this is her first time hearing it out loud.

[onthewillowsthere]

"That is another kind of religion?"

[greentara]

"Buddhism is the overarching region, but it developed differently in the two countries, Tibet and China. Not to mention the fraught geopolitical history between the two. Suffice it to say, it's similar enough."

[onthewillowsthere]

"I understand," he says, already resolving to look up the geopolitical history of Tibet and China the next time he goes to the library. "The meditation is similar, but distinct."

[greentara]

"Precisely. I believe he will be a good student." There's a wry note to this. Constance is well aware that Lan Wangji is typically the teacher.

[onthewillowsthere]

"He is focused," Galahad agrees, taking her at face value.

[greentara]

"He is," Constance agrees easily. "In that aspect, he reminds me of an old friend."

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad tilts his head slightly, inviting the story, although as usual he won't press. His attention is focused on Constance.

[greentara]

"Aloysius Pendergast. He's a detective that I worked with before I came here."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Your person," he says; he remembers this. Then he stiffens, so slightly it might be imperceptible. He knows the name Pendergast too. "Diogenes was your visitor."

[greentara]

"My visitor," Constance repeats, distaste clear with her venomous tone. "A dreadful man with worse intentions that I had to spend my entire day shadowing. I wouldn't have let him harm you."

[onthewillowsthere]

"I wasn't afraid of being harmed. I didn't like him."

[greentara]

"His charm is a thin veneer. I'm glad you saw through it. He did an exceedingly terrible thing to me at a very vulnerable time of my life."

[onthewillowsthere]

He frowns. "What did he do?"

[greentara]

Constance is not easily embarrassed in the slightest but her mind still shies away from how naive she was to trust Diogenes. It feels so long ago -- and she has since exacted her revenge -- but she was so gullible. The lush literature that he brought her, the beverages that he made her, the long conversations into the night... She looked forward to his visits and lapped it all up, like a starving child. She frowns.

"I was a naive fool. He took advantage of that and emotionally manipulated me in order to take revenge on his brother. He told me that he loved me. He did not."

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad watches her carefully. He can tell that she's having emotions, possibly even a mixture of them, but he finds her face difficult to read. Her words, though, are clearer, and he understands the humiliation of believing an overture of love or friendship, only to discover it was a trick.

"I'm sorry. That was cruel."

[greentara]

"I wanted him dead." Her tone is grim but the sentence is in past tense, anger faded from when she had stalked him across Europe in a rage.