[semi-closed post; Σίβυλλα τί θέλεις?]

[greentara]

Constance has settled into a routine at the Mansion, as the residents call it. The routine is not unlike her routine immediately after being discovered in a different mansion, on Riverside Drive in Manhattan. There is a familiarity to it. She rises at half past six every morning and performs Chongg Ran meditation for an hour, after which she dines on a simple breakfast, typically two poached eggs, some fresh fruit, and a slice of toast with butter. She takes this breakfast with tea, preferring 铁观音 in the morning, an oolong varietal that Aloysius had introduced her to.

After breakfast, she silently walks the hallways of the mansion and its grounds for a few hours, sketching a map of it into her mind. She notes any changes from the previous day. All of this, she will write down in her leather-bound journal in the evening. Between lunch and the evening is when she dedicates her time to various pursuits; harpsichord and violin practice, weight training and knife-work with her stiletto to stay in shape, and some time spent on her scientific studies. After dinner, she spends her evenings reading in the library or in her own quarters.

The majority of this is done alone. Constance is used to being alone. No, that isn't quite true – not of late, but she was prepared to be alone again. It is when she has worn her body and mind down to the best of her ability and she is attempting to fall asleep in an unfamiliar bed that being alone in this in-between place is the most difficult for her. Then, her thoughts wander. She thinks of her sister, Mary. She thinks of Doctor Leng. She thinks of Aloysius and what he must be thinking at this very moment; will he attempt to follow her? She thinks of a particular note from years ago, one she has memorized in its entirety. Even though she has somewhat settled her score with its author, its odious words still echo through her mind.

And so now, what is left for you, my poor pitiable Constance? My precious fallen angel? Handmaiden to fratricide, consort to your sister's murderer? [...] I shall not mourn you: you were a toy; a mystery easily solved; a dull box forced and found empty; an animal spasm. So let me give you a piece of advice, and please believe this to be the one honest, altruistic thing I have ever told you. Do the noble thing. End your unnatural life.

He was right, in a way. She was not a consort to her sister's murderer – she would not put it in that gauche of a fashion – but she did love him at one point, as a guardian and a teacher. And yes, of course, her life is unnatural. Constance thought she had come to terms with that aspect of her history but her more recent conversation with Miss Frost had crystalized some emotions, much to her surprise, like an unexpected chemical reaction in a test tube. She now knows that she will never come to terms with it. She also thinks of the note that she left for Aloysius before she left. So many words written yet unsaid.

In her, I see my own lonely, loveless future. It is anything but pretty. And so I will return to my past – the destiny I was meant to have.

Constance has no future. She belongs to her past. There is now plenty of time to carefully plan and enact her revenge - but she must save Mary and make things right. As if to steel her resolve, one morning, there is a box underneath her pillow. When she opens it, there is a scalpel inside. The blade gleams and the edge is sharpened. The handle is made of yellowed ivory. She picks it up and stares at it, wondering, gripping the handle tightly. The familiarity is soothing.

[[There will be scene-setting tags in the comments, if anyone wants to thread with her in a particular setting!]]

Comments

[greentara]

The first time Constance enters the lab, she instinctively draws back from the number of insects contained therein. It reminds her of a different set of rooms in the basement of the Riverside mansion, since cleared out, walls pinned with thousands of seemingly identical insects and shelves weighed down with glass bottles of assorted insect parts -- almost all poisonous. These insects are all alive, though. The next time, she is able to ignore it.

Galahad's invitation to the laboratory was extremely welcome, a symbolic warm handshake. Constance appreciates a quiet place to carry out her experiments amongst like-minded people. At the moment, she has six test tubes in front of her and is making a small notation on a pad of paper.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Ah! Miss Greene," says Susan briskly as she enters the lab and wastes no time retrieving her latest set of slides. "I'm jolly pleased to see you've availed yourself of the space."

[greentara]

"Miss Pevensie," Constance says, pleasantly. "I met Galahad on the beach and he invited me. I was attempting to see if two moons had any effect on the newly arrived ocean."

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad still feels lost when it comes to Aornis. It feels as if for so long everyone knew she was a threat except for him (although he doesn't blame Claudius for not telling him, it does make him feel foolish that he met with her over and over without knowing there was any danger); now, it feels as if everyone has moved on, while he's still grappling with the reality that he'd liked her, that he could easily have told her something he should have kept secret without realizing the danger. He'd suspected nothing; the things that it seems as if everyone else saw were never evident to him. She was polite, and straightforward, and listened to him, and all along -- was she laughing at him? Or was he too much beneath her notice for that?

Every time he looks at his watchband he thinks of a coiled snake. A speckled band. A pretty bracelet full of poison.

Magnus' assertions about Constance have filled him with the same kind of unsettled feeling, the feeling of having stepped expecting firm ground and fallen off a cliff instead. Galahad liked Constance, too. Likes? Trusts? Perhaps he should trust less. Perhaps he doesn't know enough to trust anyone except Claudius, who he trusts absolutely. Ever since that day at the beach, Galahad has been thinking about whether he was wrong to trust Constance, whether he was wrong to tell her she could use the lab, whether she was privately (or even openly?) sneering at him for the way he dresses and feels and he'd never known.

But then there's the knowledge, an uncomfortable twist in the pit of his stomach whenever he examines it, that sometimes Magnus lies. Before the day they made falafel and Magnus had his panic attack, Galahad had been willing to believe everything Magnus said to him -- but Magnus had lied, and he had lied so well that Galahad chose not to trust himself. If Magnus is capable of lying to him, then perhaps he's lied more than once, about things Galahad doesn't understand.

When he tried to talk to Claudius about it, words quickly failed him.

"Didst thou quarrel with Magnus?" Claudius asked, surprise showing on his face, and Galahad felt a surge of relief that he could still read that.

"No." His fingers fluttered on his thighs as he sat in bed, Claudius nestled against his shoulder. "I--"

Claudius put his book down and waited; Galahad had to pull away so Claudius could see him sign.

He told me something about a person here. Something bad, Galahad signed, touching his lips and then bringing his hand down, feeling childish even as he said it. I want to talk to her, but I haven't.

"Then thou shouldst," Claudius said seriously. "Thou art a good listener, and a good judge of people, husband," smiling as he laid emphasis on his new favorite endearment. "Thou wilt learn what thou needst to make thy decision, and I have no doubt it will be well-considered."

And -- Galahad doesn't believe Claudius would tell him anything but the truth. He trusts Claudius.

Although he sees Constance as soon as he enters the laboratory, he keeps to his ordinary routine. He feeds the insects in their habitats, mists the ones that need to be misted, changes out eaten, dying leaves for fresh ones. When everything is taken care of, he comes over to where Constance is working at the counter and asks, politely, "May I speak with you?"

[greentara]

If Galahad catches Constance's eye at any point after he enters laboratory, she will give him a small nod, but she is engrossed in her work as well. It isn't until he approaches her when she carefully sets down her pen. "Of course. What is it?"

[tallyyoungblood]

Tally's eating a protein bar and reading a book at one of the kitchen tables (the one where she'd totally made out with Gideon one time, she's pretty sure) when Constance comes in. Tally gives her a nod, but when it becomes clear that Constance is observing the kitchen instead of getting a snack or something, she speaks up.

"Hi, Constance. Um, what are you doing?"

[greentara]

"Hello, Miss Tally," Constance says politely, with some warmth. "I am attempting to survey the kitchen and note if there are any changes from yesterday."

[tallyyoungblood]

"Are there?" Tally asks, interested. She notes the miss, but files it away for now. "I've totally never tried to track that stuff."

[greentara]

When Constance was first discovered, she was desperately, terribly pale and slender. It was similar to a scientist discovering a deep sea fish, one that had not seen a ray of light its entire existence. It was many years before she came close to her current level of athleticism but she took to paranza corta, a style of Sicilian knife fighting, quite eagerly. Aloysius had found her a tutor when he noticed her enthusiasm.

She is currently running through a few drills with her stiletto in an out of the way room, wearing a slim fitting and simple black outfit; one with long sleeves and long pants, of course. Her mahogany hair is tied back securely with a ribbon. She has just begun to break a sweat.

[ninth_cavalier]

Listen, Gideon had sort of been planning to tone it down the next time she saw Constance. Aornis is dead, she's a taken woman now (??), she doesn't have to immediately alienate every new hottie with over-the-top, aggressive flirting. But that was when she thought she was gonna see Constance again in like, the library, or something staid and nerdy and restrained.

Not this. She's sweaty and doing knife drills. It's like this is a little test sent specifically to her by God, and like all tests set by all authority figures, Gideon plans on failing it as spectacularly as possible.

She spends a second or two just watching—both the sway of Constance's body and the totally fascinating knife-fight style, because she contains multitudes—and then wolf-whistles and leans against the doorway. "Hey, good-lookin'. What's a pretty girl like you doing with a little knife like that?"

[greentara]

Paranza corta involves circular, almost dancing footwork and sharp cuts of the stiletto; speed is key, since as observed by Gideon, the blade is quite small. The emphasis is on striking quickly at the most vulnerable parts of the body, so Constance is practicing cuts towards the eyes, the throat, and the abdomen.

Gideon speaks during one of these strikes and Constance has been so focused on her knifework that she is startled. The twist of her wrist becomes slightly awkward. Most observers would not notice it -- but Gideon might. She quickly turns towards Gideon, silent, eyes blazing with irritation.

[greentara]

Constance has found a classic double harpsichord with beautiful mahogany paneling. She is now seated at it in the music room, playing Scarlatti's Sonata in F Minor, a rather melancholy piece. She is quite pleased that it's there; unlike the violin, which she is still learning to master, she is a talented harpsichord player.

[papadopoulos]

Apollo is always attuned to any sort of music, whether it is in the mansion or otherwise. So it should be no surprise that he peers in the music room and listens quietly for a while.

Eventually, he offers: "You play well."

[greentara]

Constance looks up at this, continuing to gently play the song. It's an unfamiliar face. "Thank you," she says.

[greentara]

Constance is in the library. At first glance, it seemed smaller than the extensive book collection at the Riverside Mansion, gathered by many members of the Pendergast family over the years -- but as she explored it more, she kept noticing an additional aisle or a hidden shelf with an enticing novel or text that she had never seen before.

It is easy to become distracted -- and she has, having set aside multiple texts about the minerality of sea water in favor of becoming entranced by a copy of J.F. Borghouts' translation of Ancient Egyptian Magical Texts, which she landed on in a roundabout fashion.

[wickedwit]

Claudius emerges from the inner stacks, returning to a table near Constance. On it already are an open mansion calendar (with landscapes of foreign worlds for every month), a scribbled list of names and dates, and an almanack of uncertain publication; to the pile, he adds a book entitled Introduction to Moon Signs. Before he can take a seat and set to work, he notices Constance, a curious smile lighting his lips. "Pardon me, madam," he says, interrupting her reading as politely as possible. "I don't believe we've met. Unless you've been changed by a mansion trick, of course."

[greentara]

Constance looks up at him, expression polite but otherwise unreadable; it could be noted that her accent is similar to his, oddly old-fashioned for the time she is from. "If that is the case then it must be a rather mundane trick," she says, mildly.

[kadewest]

Kade, in a rare mood to keep a hand in with his life's work in the off-chance he ends up being called back to the school, enters the library with his notebook, a pad of graph paper, and a nice pen. He settles these on a table and beelines for the portal fantasies--there are books here he never encountered on Earth, and he wants to document how the subject is treated in other Worlds.

[greentara]

Constance notes him almost immediately but she is rather enthralled with a particular section of her text. When there is a break in her reading, she looks over and murmurs a polite "Good afternoon".

[greentara]

Constance has just finished a vigorous workout and after showering and changing, is in search of a particular cup of tea in the kitchen. She has discovered the trick with the refrigerator and has learned to think about what one wants, which is quite like meditation, but the fridge seems to be overly enthusiastic today. There are four types of milk on the top shelf, but she has the one she needs in one hand: yak milk.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji makes his way often through the kitchen, and he steps in following the morning's training with Galahad, looking precisely as he did the day they met: white robes, Bichen at his waist and Wangji at his back, boots crisp on the tiled floor. When he sees Constance, he stops and arranges himself promptly into a polite bow, hands together. It is a less brisk gesture than the one he made on the day of their meeting, but it will nonetheless make it clear that he is a man of well-practiced habit when it comes to niceties.

[greentara]

"Good morning," Constance tells him politely, with a small nod of her own. She sets some water to boil on the stove. "Have you been up long?"

[greentara]

A week or two past the situation with her young self, Constance is reading in one of the parlors with a cup of tea -- this time a new translation of the Nei Ching, which is perhaps the oldest known medical text. She has sloughed off some of her annoyance with the aforementioned situation and it's now a simmering irritation rather than outright anger.

[summerdude]

Magnus wanders past the room, an enormous pile of lumber in his arms. He notices Constance, considers walking right past, and then sighs. They really do need to talk.

"Hey," he says from the doorway. "Sup?"

[greentara]

Constance looks up from her book, fixing him with her gaze. Of course. Another person who saw her when she was ...not herself. She isn't upset with him, not anymore; their conversation was never truly an issue for her. It was the fallout she had issues with. Even everything he did when she was her younger self was out of kindness. Still, there is some steel to her tone when she greets him, perhaps simply out of the fact that they do have to talk.

"Magnus," she says simply, lowering her book slightly.