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1.
I am so deeply sorry, said Cyrene’s voice coming from Teach Anaxa’s phone, but for this semester, we will have to stay home due to my aunt’s health. Khaslana and I will be back around finals, but not in time for the play and any sort of training. Please, give our role to someone else.
“As if it were that easy to find someone remotely like her,” Teach Anaxa growls, clicking his tongue and letting the phone fall to his lap. “Let alone someone willing to put in the work- the play is in but a few weeks and she dares to-!”
“They have been away from their family for a long while, Anaxagoras.”
“Shush, we still need to think about what to do, Aglaea.” He turns to Hyacine and shakes his head. “I don’t suppose you know someone we can ask a favor of. Anyone in the infirmary?”
“If they went to the infirmary, Teach,” she answers, nervously eating away the last crumbs of a cereal bar, “it’s unlikely they are in the state of playing a role in a play.”
Anaxa growls, pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead.
Hyacine understands his frustration. Cyrene had been overjoyed when offered the position, but admittedly, Khaslana had proposed her due to the inability to find anyone else that could play such a role. And they were the stars of the show; she could hardly think of anyone more fitting than Khaslana for the gentle, warm nature of Orpheus, let alone someone that could replicate Cyrene’s wit and ethereal appearance for Eurydice. And their college theater was already in shambles after their last play hadn’t moved much traction, so cancelling this one…
She isn’t sure if their group’s morals could take that. Hyacine could see it all happening in front of her eyes; Dan Heng would be the first to leave, followed by Evernight deeming the whole thing a waste of time. Professor Cerydra would follow, taking Miss Hysilens and a fair amount of their funds with her, and then, Teach Cipher would convince Professor Aglaea that there were better things to pour their time into, and Khaslana would come back and see the whole thing broken apart and blame her because he just wouldn’t blame Mydei and-
“Hey.”
A soothing touch on top of her head leads Hyacine out of her own swirling thoughts.
She looks up; Professor Aglaea is sitting by her side, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.
“I could see you worrying.”
“It’s not like you can see much these days-“
“Shut up.” The answer comes so straightforward Hyacine can’t help but chuckle; the feeling of laughter in her throat takes some of the tension off her shoulders. “We will figure it out. Don’t stress over it. How about you go to the infirmary? It is your turn now, is it not?
“Yes, but we have to-“
“Don’t fret; the answer will come…, and I suppose I can have my Cifera check on a few contacts we might have.” Aglaea hums for a second before patting Hyacine’s shoulder. “Come on come on, off you go. Let us adults figure this out.”
“Like your wife can pull a magic person out of the underworld for us,” Anaxa growls, raising a glass to Hyacine nonetheless as she gets up from the sofa in their theater room, her backpack. “Hope no one dies today.”
“I might, if we don’t figure this one out,” Hyacine joked, nervously; Anaxa’s bitter laugh and Aglaea’s gentle giggles subdued some of her anxiety. She turns around and walks to the door. “See ya’.”
“Take care.”
Hyacine closes the door behind her, trots a few steps up Aglaea’s basement, and sprints off.
Professor Aglaea was right; she was running a bit late to the infirmary. Her thoughts drift away; though it isn’t necessary for her to volunteer there, as her career teaches her quite enough, she finds it… soothing, to do a few turns here and there to help. There is something in taking care of a place full of people a bit hurt and a bit lonely and organizing it to fruition. It is the same reason she agreed to help in the theater group when Khaslana offered, what with the many things to do and the many ways Hyacine could help.
And now, all of this could crumble…
A voice deep within her mind tells her that she should not be running off to the infirmary; she ponders stopping, taking out her phone, and asking Khaslana to suggest friends for the play. Professor Aglaea knew so many people and so did her wife, but Hyacine couldn’t help but feel like that was… an easy route?
No, no, it wasn’t that, she thought, jumping into a pile of dry leaves that had fallen from the autumn’s trees. It was… something else that Hyacine didn’t quite like. A drive within herself to actually be the one to find the answer herself, to have a play in saving the day. And she didn’t quite know what to do about it.
… Hey. At the very least, the weather is quite nice.
Hyacine arrives at the infirmary and looks up; the sun is setting, and this turn rarely sees many people around. The wind plays with her hoodie, and the rest of students that walk to the train do it in groups or couples, chatting along about the end of the day. Hyacine stands alone, instead.
For a usually busy mind, she finds herself fixating on a single thought.
I should call my aunt. Another soon follows. And Khaslana and Cyrene. I’ll ask him to play tonight. Assuming they left early today, it should still be a few hours before they arrive in Elysae, but she guesses she can wait.
Meanwhile, she steps into the infirmary to sign in for the start of her turn.
“Hello, dear. A student just arrived needing some help!” Tribbie (or Trianon? One of the boss’s kids) said, nodding to a room at the end of the hallway. “Nothing serious though.”
“I’ll go. Has anyone told you how similar you look to your mum?”
“Plenty! The girl needing help said so as well!!”
Hyacine laughs, signs the document, and walks to the patient's room. he inhales deeply but her body feels tense. shakes her head and moves her shoulders and arms, hoping for some of the tension to dissipate. A smile, a clear of her throat, and she knocks
“Helloooo!” She says, the door swinging open, “name’s Hyacine, third year of infirmary, and I will be helping-“
She looks up to her, and she is the most beautiful woman Hyacine has ever seen.
She doesn’t know where to direct her attention, because everything about that woman under the light of the sun feels worth looking at. Is it the bright lilac eyes, the long, lavender hair pulled up in a hightail? Or rather the soft face, freckles burning on her cheeks? She doesn’t know. She is staring, she knows she is, but her heart drums so quickly Hyacine can feel the vibration up in her throat. She can’t move.
She stares, and doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t say anything either, and Hyacine is definitely making a fool of herse-
SLAM!
The wind slamming the door shut makes her jump in surprise.
“Gah! What the-?” Hyacine turns, and- with her twirling her backpack hits the knob of the door, and she jumps again. “What- When-?”
She hits her elbow on a nearby bookshelf and drops the damn bag-
Her cheeks burn in embarrassment as she clears her throat and closes her eyes. Did she just make herself a fool in front of not only such a pretty woman, but one of her patients? She is never gonna hear the end of this from Tribios- wait, did this room have a camera too? Oh, Kephale all mighty-
A laugh breaks her out of her trance.
It’s- not a laugh, as much as it is a well-hidden giggle, but it is one, nonetheless. Hyacine looks at her again. Her patient is chuckling, shoulders trembling in laughter, and another wave of apathy hits Hyacine. Is she laughing at her? She doesn’t blame her, but- it is awkward, and-
And her eyes spark, in gentle joy, when their eyes meet again.
“I am sorry.” She says, in perfect pronunciation, almost scary. “I do not wish to laugh at you. It is the situation. I find myself a bit surprised about everything that is happening today. I got a small cut,” she says, lifting her arm, where she holds a bloodied scarf, “and I was sent here, and a child showed me to this room, and now you are here. It’s been… a day.”
“I’m certain.” Hyacine’s voice trembles, and she has to clear her throat again to manage a smile, but she does, finally, and soon a laugh follows. “Makes the two of us. The child of the boss, by the way. Triplets, too, so there are three kids looking exactly like her.”
“… Ah. That is very good to know.” A tense silence follows before she clears her throat and tilts her head at Hyacine. “My name is Castorice, by the way. My pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Castorice…” Hyacine feels the name linger on her tongue and loves its sound. “Hi. I’m Hyacine, but you already know that. Do forget the rest of my first impression, please.”
She laughs again, and Hyacine finally gets her feelings together, enough to walk closer, picking up bandages and alcohol on the way, and getting to work. She sits in front of Castorice’s bed, dropping off her bag, and takes a look at the wound; it’s not deep, but it is long, slashing from Castorice’s wrist to the point between her thumb and index finger.
“How did this happen?”
“I was in… the faculty of medicine, and I saw a kitten trampled under a lot of roses in the garden.” Hyacine nods, following along; the Garden of Memories around the faculty was well kno- wait, which faculty again? “I rescued it, but a bad movement led to this. I am sorry for the inconvenience; I could just heal this myself.”
“Not at all!” Hyacine’s heart drums in her ribs as she cleans the wound; Castorice winces in pain, so she rushes to bandage it quickly. “I am here to help you, dear. I’d be happy to even offer some mints, but I am afraid Tribbie got them all.”
Castorice laughs again. It's such a melodious sound, it drums in Hyacine’s ears and settles in her chest between heart and lung, forcing a silly chuckle out of her stomach. “People here in Okhema University are… nice,” she says, and from this close, Hyacine can hear her strong intonation in some of her words. It reminded her of Mydei all of sudden. “But I didn’t know where to ask for help with the kitten…”
“Did ya come from another faculty? Sorry that we couldn’t offer help faster…”
“From another…? Uh, yes, you may say so.”
A tense silence settled above them.
Hyacine looked up to Castorice, and she caught her avoiding her gaze, a blush dusting her cheeks.
“Cass?”
“I… come from a different college altogether.” Castorice clears her throat; Hyacine gives her hand a gentle squeeze in a perhaps poor attempt for reassurance. “So, it’s been a bit… lonely here.”
“Oh, I get it. I mean- no, I’ve been here since forever, and I have some friends, but they each have their own circle, you know?” Maybe she is saying far more than she should, but when Castorice turns back to look at her, as if she is pouring her all in hearing Hyacine, she finds it hard not to ramble: “Most students in Okhema know each other because their families studied here and so they met when they were kids. weird not being part of that circle, ya know? But I do like studying here, though I am also from the medicine faculty and I had never seen you before. But that’s OK because I don’t talk with many people here.” Hyacine laughs. Why can’t I shut up? “I meet most of the people I talk to through our theater class and maybe that one is gonna end soon- but that’s alright, I still have the infirmary!” She laughs, again. Her hands are sweating. “Anyways- where are you from?”
“… Aidonia.”
…
… Did I just overshare with an exchange student?!
“… What is that theater thing you mention-“
“… Oh! I, uh, have never gone there.” Oh, Kephale, she is going to think all of those in Amphoreus are this much of a mess, like her. Quickly, fix it! “Is it, like, always snowing, as they say?”
Castorice smirks. “It is… not? Most of the time it is actually raining, and the snow is most of all in winter, and I miss it. If I can be honest with you, people there are… different. Not in a bad way. But Amphoreus can be a bit intimidating at first.” She clears her throat, and sighs. “I… just arrived here. But I do miss being at home. And it is a bit lonely. But I already said that too, did I not? I’m sorry for-”
“Yes- but that’s fine!” Hyacine stands up, and Castorice jumps in her place, so she quickly sits again, this time by her side in the bed. “I, uh, sorta just overshared a lot about myself, haha. I’m sorry.” She holds Castorice’s gaze and searches to hold her hand. “If you… feel like that. Well. I understand it, really. But I just made a big mess in front of you, and ya took it fine, so I think you’ll make friends quickly. I already like you and it hasn’t been more than half an hour!”
“… Really?”
“Yes.” Hyacine smiles. Castorice’s hand feels warm in her own, and nerves be damned, she reaches out to gently cradle the girl's head with her free hand, leaning closer. “I am sure. I promise.”
Castorice stares… and a sharp blush takes shape on her cheeks.
“Well.” It’s her turn to smile, her eyes narrowing. “I quite like you already.”
Hyacine’s ears burn from the heat of her own blush.
However, before she can say anything-
“Now, what’s this theater thing you were talking about?” Castorice offers, turning her body towards Hyacine.
“… Ah. Uh, well. I participate with Okhema’s theater group. Well, technically the Chrisos Heir conference’s theater wing, but most of us are from this very college. And the last play didn’t do very well.” Hyacine shakes her head, dropping Castorice’s hand to rest her hands in her lap, a bit defeated. “And now we have one more play coming out of Eurydice and Orpheus. Our main actors, Khaslana and Cyrene —you’d like them a lot!— went back home before their finals, and they were our main actors, so we are in a bit of a problem.”
“I see…” Castorice hums to herself, and she probably didn’t, but Hyacine has the feeling she moved a tad bit closer to her, her voice changing to a whisper. “Are they also part of that… family group you mentioned?”
“Yes? Khaslana and Cyrene are childhood friends- oh, you meant the whole group.” Castorice nods, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Well, most of the members are from those families. Are you familiar with Hysilens? The violinist?” When she nods again, Hyacine presses on: “She helps compose the music, and her wife, Miss Cerydra, backs the projects monetarily."
“… The… astronaut?”
“Yes, Cerydra, the astronaut. The one who helped take that one photo of a black hole recently.” Castorice blinks in surprise. Hyacine rambles on: “And we also have Professor Aglaea doing the attire, and her wife did classes for Khaslana back when he started his career. And teach Anaxa is-“
“The- the medicine dean?!”
“Yep, him! See, they are all well-known and know each other well, too.” Hyacine laughs, surprising herself. “The only one not part of that group was Mydei, but he and Khaslana were friends from before that used to play online, and he is a Kremnus.”
Castorice pointedly stares at Hyacine.
“… No, I am… not from such a family. Hahh.” She turns her gaze to a wall, barely holding back a sigh. “I am adopted. Oh, and I am from the Grove; I moved here after winning the scholarship. I lived here with an aunt, but we don’t speak often.” Which is to say at all since she moved to her room in Okhema…, oh well. “I met them all through Professor Anaxa and the class.”
“… And this… theater thing you mentioned. What will happen if the play doesn’t work?”
“Well. I’ve heard Professor Anaxa talk with Aglaea about pausing it for a while, at least until more people show interest. But I doubt that’s going to happen…, so, it’s do or die now. We’ll have to make it work, somehow!” Hyacine sighs and forces a smile back onto her lips. “However! I believe I have stolen enough of your time.” She stands up, and does a small reverence. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Castorice, and I hope I’ll see you again. I’ll go fill out your information; you are free to go-“
Something grabs her wrist.
Hyacine looks down at her arm, held by a bandaged hand, and up to Castorice once more.
There is… something in her eyes. A distant spark, an idea quickly taking shape.
“Hyacine.”
“… Yes?”
Castorice’s agitation is clear in the way her fingers tremble, in how the blush refuses to leave her pretty face, yet she holds Hyacine’s gaze with a sharp determination she finds nothing short of enviable.
“If… you’ll have me.” Her fingers curl to hold Hyacine’s hand, resting lightly above her palm. “If- if it doesn’t bother you… If I can ask for such a chance, even though we just met…”
“… Yes, Castorice?”
If it doesn’t bother me? After I just told her my whole life?
Hyacine finds it hard to not laugh. What could she want?
“I’d be happy to be your main protagonist. I’ll be your Eurydice.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
2.
“Well,” Aglaea says, holding the tea cup close to her lips, “quite the heaven’s gift.”
“Which means to say a certain someone has struck gold!” Cifera, leaning over to press her cheek onto Teach Aglaea’s shoulder, smiles boldly at Hyacine with sparkling eyes. “Quite the lucky girl you are. Perhaps one of these days you will dream with Kephale and get a premonition.”
“Don’t tease her, dear,” Aglaea shakes her head, though the shadow of a smile dances on her face when Hyacine looks back at her. “It seems to be indeed a gift that you have found this girl. Are you sure you hadn’t met her before?”
“I am.” Hyacine nods, leaning forward to grab her own cup of tea. “Though she told me she arrived a few weeks ago, so I was either busy with finals…, or visiting my aunt.” Aglaea winces, so quick it might as well not have been there, but enough for Hyacine to notice it. On her for mentioning her aunt. “So maybe I did see her, but I don’t remember.”
“In all honesty, Hyacine, and in spite of how much you both seem to have hit it off,” Cifera says, leaning back on the couch to look behind Aglaea, “I’d be more interested in asking that Lionboy if he had met her before. That chemistry gotta come from somewhere!”
Hyacine turns to watch the impromptu practice of their saved play.
It had been a week since she had met Castorice and got her to join the play as Eurydice. Professor Anaxa on the other hand had convinced Mydei, the strong Kremnus exchange student of harsh nature and perhaps a little short patience, to cover for Khaslana, the gentle snow prince straight out of a fairytale, as Orpheus.
Hyacine, when told this as she arrived at their weekly meeting with Castorice in tow, reacted in a very objective and calm way.
She almost fainted.
“Careful to not fall asleep again, dear.”
“Enough, Cif.”
When she had come to her senses, Cipher, Aglaea’s wife of all people, had been looking over her and notified Aglaea; and so, all of them were now in her basement just drinking some tea. Castorice had arrived shortly after, and with Mydei there Anaxa had decided to do a practice round of the play.
It helped that Castorice seemed to know the script already. Mydei had some idea, given his status as Khaslana’s best friend and being there while he practiced, but Castorice seemed to… embody the character of Eurydice. In a different way that Cyrene did, perhaps, but a way that was hers all together; where Cyrene was abrasive, loud and strong to Khaslana’s gentle, royal way, Castorice was soft-spoken, loving to everyone around her. Like the ideal princess that Mydei’s Orpheus seeks to protect from death.
Chemistry indeed flowed from both of them, and when Hyacine turned towards Aglaea and Cipher, both of them seemed to be thinking the same thing given the look they exchanged before Aglaea turned to Hyacine again.
“Credit where it’s due, darling: both of them are exchange students. I’d guess that plays a role in this connection of theirs.” Aglaea hums, sounding quite satisfied. “Besides, without Khaslana around, I think Mydei was feeling a tad bit lonely.”
“Likely,” Cipher purrs, playing with the leftover liquid in her soda can. “I spoke to him about it but he didn’t say much, which is Mydei language for I miss him but I don’t wanna admit to it. See? I’m fluent in kremnoise these days.”
“And since when are you so knowledgeable in other languages?” Aglaea mocks, voice warm with love as Cipher laughs and leans to rest her cheek on her shoulder. “I know we spoke about learning some morse code for my sight, but kremnoise is quite different from it, dear.”
“A woman can be full of surprise, my Beauty of Okhema. For one, I know you rolling your eyes means you like me in aglaese,” she says, laughing when Aglaea does exactly that with a gentle smile, “or that Anaxagoras actually likes this club perhaps more than being a teacher because he is here instead of imparting his class, including the fact two of his students are also part of the play.”
“Not exactly part of the play, no, but he did give us special permission to be here,” Hyacine laughs, immediately falling victim to Cipher’s piercing gaze.
“And it seems to me, with that look in those eyes of yours, that you think of this Cassie girl as a really pretty one.”
Hyacine can feel the blush exploding in her face.
“Cifera, please.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Cipher laughs, and smiles at Hyacine. “Too innocent for your own good, as usual. However, you have done us a good assist here in getting that Cassie girl; are you sure you just want to still stay behind the curtains, and not take a full role in the opera with her?”
Hyacine breathes in to answer- and just as quickly, the words get stuck in her throat. The idea draws itself on her mind; her, in front of a multitude of students, her dean and some teachers included, looking at her as she says whatever she has to and failing every single line and going when she is not meant to and leaving before she has to and rui-
“No, Miss Cipher,” she says, gaze falling to fixate on her tea, “thank you.”
A heavy silence follows, in which Hyacine waits that Cipher is correct and Kephale himself presents to her so she can ask to be anything but herself, someone capable of saying “yes”, like she knows she wants to. The cruel voice of her aunt in her mind echoes in her skull and it drives her to a headache.
But she says nothing.
Instead, Aglaea clears her throat, and taps onto her table in an uneven rhythm to get her attention.
“Then, may I ask for a favor, dear?” When Hyacine nods, Aglaea chuckles; she looks up to her, and her tired eyes spark, “could I ask that you go get me some fabric? Given the changes in our lead actors, I have to adapt some of their clothes.”
“Sure! Uh, give me the directions.” It’s nice having something to do, she finds. “I have no more classes today so I’d be happy to go.”
“Go where?” Hyacine turns to see Castorice, sitting to her side. Hyacine offers Castorice her own cup, and she takes it from her hands with a thankful smile. “My throat hurts. I may be a bit tired.”
“Rest, then. You are already doing us a good favor, we can’t also have you getting sick,” Hyacine jumps in to say, instinct and years in med school shooting up words before she can think, in a warm tone she refuses to elaborate about., “Boss Aglaea is sending me to buy some materials for your attire.”
“I- get a full attire?”
“My Aggie is a seamstress, after all,” Cipher jumped in to say, shooting a prideful look to Aglaea before turning back to Castorice, her fingers playing with a tin can. “How about you go with our Hyacine here? She’d like the company.”
“I would not- I'd love it, I’d love it!” She jumps to answer and changes immediately as soon as Castorice has the smallest look of hurt in her eyes, “I’d love to go with you! But you are practicing and tired and don’t you have a class in like, forty minutes?”
“My class, if memory serves right,” Professor Anaxa said, coming closer. Mydei is still in the middle of the room holding a stern posture that is definitely tan attempt to try and fix his… broad stance. “However, I am thinking of cancelling it. Or sending one of my TAs. I have some work to do here.” He turns to Castorice, fixating his stern gaze onto her. “You, however, are done for today. Quite free to go with Hyacinthia if you so desire.”
“I do.”
It was such an earnest answer. So freely given, that Hyacine feels the blush burning on her cheeks right away. It gets worse when, after a beat of silence, all the people in the basement turn to look at her. Oh, right. I am supposed to answer, am I not?
“Well.” She clears her throat, buys time by tapping her nails against her cup of tea. “... Well. I. Ran out of ideas. Haha.” The nervous laugh does not help the embarrassing feeling. “I’ll go, then. With Cassie. If that’s OK?”
“It sounds good to me.” Cipher writes down something on a piece of paper, and hands it over to Hyacine. Castorice leans in and they read it together; it is a direction, and a poorly scribbled number under it, “that’s where Aglaea buys the fabrics. Under it is my number; call if something goes wrong.”
“Choose a color you are comfortable with, Castorice. Consider it a gift from me.”
Aglaea tells them a few more details but Hyacine, admittedly, zones out of it; I’m going out to buy something with Castorice. The plan unfolds itself in her mind before she can reconsider; she runs the math in her mind. She meets Cipher’s gaze. The woman smiles and winks at her.
… Kephale be damned.
“Let’s go, then!” Castorice says, stepping up and turning towards Hyacine, holding her hand out. She takes it, and she is thankful she did. Hyacine had forgotten that she had fainted a few minutes ago, and her legs still felt…wobbly. “Let me help you. Good luck, Mydei!”
Mydei lifts a hand to wave them goodbye, and as soon as they are out of Aglaea’s basement, together this time, Hyacine grabs her hand more firmly, searching for support while going up the stairs. It is not needed at all but Castorice hasn’t said anything against it.
In fact, when Hyacine turns to look at her as they walk along the alley of the architecture faculty, what she finds in Castorice's clear eyes is sparkling curiosity.
“Why did dean Anaxagoras call you Hyacinthia?”
… Oh.
“Because, uh,” Hyacine gulps down, “that’s my name.”
“... Is it not Hyacine?” Castorice looks worried. “I’ve- got it wrong this whole week? I am so deeply sorry-”
“No, please.” Hyacine shakes her head, the last remnants of her dizziness vanishing in an instant. “Just- call me Hyacine. Hyacinthia is my full name but I don’t really like it. My parents used to call me Hyacine.” Stop rambling! “Only the dean and my aunt use the full name these days. I don’t think he knows I dislike it.”
“... And… your aunt?”
“I don’t think she knows I don’t like it, either.”
A heavy silence settles as they continue walking. It’s a cold autumn day; Hyacine steps onto fallen leaves with a loud crash, as if the tension between them could break in a similar way.
“I think Miss Cipher commented about notifying your aunt about your fainting,” Castorice says, slowly and calmly, walking side by side with Hyacine. “Lady Aglaea strongly refused.”
“She… has my thanks for that.”
Castorice’s look, worried and so serious, to the point Hyacine knows she just wants to see her smile again. So, she clears her throat, forces a smile, and laughs nervously. That got heavy- I’ll just-
“If you want to speak about it,” Castorice said, before Hyacine could even figure out the plan, “I’d be happy to listen to you. In anything you want to say.” The surprise must have been clear to see on her face, because Castorice chuckles. Now it was her turn to focus on the ground and step onto the fallen leaves. “I think of you as my friend. And I worry for you.”
“... I’ll tell you. Just- not now, alright?” The offer is left hanging over them, clawing at Hyacine’s heart. “Just- let me think about it. Yeah?” Castorice nods, and smiles at her. Her heartbeat quickens. “Can I ask you something, instead?”
“Of course.”
“This is not the first time you have read the myth for the play, right?”
Castorice actually laughs, this time. “I used to read a comic book based on it, Sandman, and both Eurydice and Orpheus appear there in a few chapters. And turns out Mister Mydei also read it, so we discussed some of it and used a few things they do in our practices.”
“Really? I’ve never heard of it.”
“Oh, it’s- good! It also has a series if you'd like to watch it instead of reading, and there is a character I think you’d like-! Oh, um. Sorry if… that takes too much of your time, with the whole infirmary thin-”
“I’d be happy to,” Hyacine answers, and before courage leaves her, she presses on; “And um, after we get the fabrics for Aglaea, I know a place close by. I’ll buy you some coffee for all the troubles we have thrown at you, if… that’s alright?”
“No problems at all, Hyacine!” Castorice smiles, and her eyes seem to reflect the spark of the very sun above them. “I’d be happy to go with you.”
Hyacine can do nothing but smile back.
I’m Castorice’s friend.
That’s all she needs for now.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
3.
“What do you mean Mydei’s SICK?!”
It comes out far louder than she intended, echoing across the empty hallway outside Okhema’s medicine faculty. For one, Hyacine finds she doesn’t quite care about making a scene, pressing her phone to her ear as if to listen better.
“I mean exactly what I just said, Hyacine,” Professor Anaxagoras’s voice crackles through the speaker, exhausted in a way that makes Hyacine’s stomach drop. “Food poisoning. He’s been in the infirmary, your infirmary, since this morning, in case you wish to verify it yourself.”
Hyacine is this close from just breaking down into sobs.
With the play looming in the distance of Sunday next week, they can’t lose any more time. And it’s not like she is blaming Mydei for getting sick —she, herself, has felt the need to throw up, what with the incoming finals and the stress of making an opera work with their two leads out—, but this is not the right time!
“I- It’s just- Hyacine’s free hand clutches at the strap of her backpack, her stomach revolting. “Can’t we- postpone, or something? Just for today? He’ll be better tomorrow, right? He will have even more time to—”
“We cannot, and you know exactly why.” The finality in his tone makes her flinch. “Venue’s booked, orchestra scheduled for the practice. I knew Aglaea didn’t had to go that big— but now that we have the chance, it’s make or break for us. If we convince them today that they should be with us in the actual play, that will surely interest more people in the club.”
“But with Mydei out, what are we to do?” Hyacine answers, anxiously tapping her finger against one of the pillars in the hallway. “He is one of the leads. It’s not someone we can easily replace.”
Anaxagoras’s silence is heavy as he thinks.
“Perhaps…?”
Hyacine’s heart jumps in her ribs. “Yes?”
“Hyacinthia.” The use of her full name lands like a stone to her chest. “You know every line, don’t you?”
“If I- what?” He is not— thinking what she thinks he is thinking, right? There is just— there is no way he wants her to go and— “Teach, I can’t. You know I can’t. I do props, and lighting cues, and all that backstage work. I’m not built for—”
“But you know every line.”
It’s said with such a challenging tone it almost makes Hyacine sob. Yes, she does. Of course she does. She’s been at every rehearsal, ever since the first attempt with Khaslana and Cyrene happened, the script memorized before it was even finished. She can recite Orpheus’s monologue forward and backwards, write it down from zero for good measure.
But she cannot do this.
“It’s different knowing and playing them,” she whispers, passing her hand through her neck, wet with sweat. She closes her eyes so hard it hurts. “I’m not an actor. Get someone else. Anyone else will do. Just- not me. Please.”
“There is no one else, unless you have a suggestion.” A long, heavy sigh leaves his lips. Hyacine can almost picture him shaking his head. “Hyacinthia. I wouldn’t ask if there were any other option. But Castorice needs a scene partner, and you are the only one who could remotely be on her level. Anyone else would make a terrible impression.”
“No.” The word comes strangled, and her vision is starting to blur at the edges. Impotence burns hot and poisonous in her mouth, and she can already see it what will happen— her, frozen in stage, forgetting her lines, missing her cues. Castorice’s disappointed face, the whole production crumbling on her shoulders because they trusted her and she couldn’t, should not even tried to- “I’m sorry. I won’t.”
“Hyacinthia—”
“I can’t! And you can’t make me!” Her voice cracks, like every time she raises her tone, and she hates its sound. “Find someone else!”
A heavy silence sets between the two for a few miserable minutes.
Eventually, Anaxagoras drops a sigh.
“Fine.” The disappointment is so clear in his voice, worse than anger, and Hyacine bites her lips almost hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll tell Aglaea we will need to cancel today’s rehearsal. We’ll see what we can do with the venue manager. Hopefully he will understand.”
The call ends.
Hyacine stands in the hallway, hand shaking so badly she nearly drops her phone; pressing her back against the pillar, she slides down until she is sitting against it, chest so tight she fears she might be about to pass out. Her phone buzzes, but she ignores it for the sake of taking deep, terrified breathes.
It buzzes again, probably messages. She figures Anaxagoras called Aglaea immediately.
Hyacine presses her face into her hands, trembling. She can’t. She- will mess up. Somehow. It will come to pass like it always does and she can’t have the opera fail, but even worse, she can’t have it fail because of her. Which will, nonetheless, because she can’t act and they will find no one, and there is no way the venue manager gives her another chance, and when Mydei comes back and learns of it he will call Khaslana to tell her and he will know, in the distance, that it was all Hyacine’s fault.
Her phone buzzes again.
… and it continues buzzing.
She slides her hands off her face, wet with tears, and looks at the phone in her lap.
Castorice is calling.
… Oh no.
No no no—
She blocks off the call, and looks at the messages: two from Aglaea, one from Cipher.
[ Cipher: Hey, sweetie. It’s OK. Don’t let him get to yer heard, OK?”
Prof. Aglaea: Anaxa told me. I am so sorry, dear.
Prof. Aglaea: I will fix this one. Do not worry. ]
The phone trembles in her hands.
She wants to.
She wants, like she has never wanted before, and it hurts so much she fears her heart may combust within her ribs and leave nothing but a deep hole behind. Fear and desire burn bright inside her chest, threatening to rip it open and seek her wish whether she likes it or not, whether she deserves to or not. Hyacine has never wanted something so badly, yet her legs tremble, and her throat hurts, and she can’t, she can’t, she-
Her phone buzzes again.
This time, it’s Castorice.
[ Cassie: Hey.
Cassie: Our dean told me.
Cassie: It’s OK if you can’t make it.
Cassie: I’ll see you later on class.
Cassie: And hey, between us?
Cassie: I am scared too. ]
Hyacine stares at the message.
Well, of course she is terrified. She just arrived from afar and Hyacine just tagged her along into this whole insanity and there has to be just so much weight on her shoulders, the weight of guilt presses heavy on her shoulders, like the whole sky’s burden has fallen on her. She has not been fair to Castorice, has she?
… but she has stayed, too.
Perhaps it’s the same guilt. Perhaps it’s that she is too deep by now and doesn’t want to disappoint anyone, just like Hyacine fears. But she is there. And she is there- where Hyacine isn’t.
I’ll see you later in class.
Hyacine buries her face in her hands and drops into them a low, rumbling growl—
—she gets up, and she runs.
There are plenty of people in the theater room, and all around the stage, though all of them mix into a blur for two main reasons; one, running with an empty stomach may have been not the wisest decision to have made on an impulse; and, two, and this the most important one; Castorice is in the stage.
She is, and she is beautiful. Tall and gentle in the handmade flowing dress, in shades of lavender and purple, that makes her look like she stepped out straight out of painting, perfectly tailored for her alone. If Eurydice looked remotely like this, Hyacine’s tired brain thinks, maybe she understands Orpheus all of suddenly. She wouldn’t want to keep her eyes away from her either.
Castorice turns around from Aglaea, who seems to be telling her something important, and her whole face lights up, brighter than any light above the stage.
“You came!”
Hyacine’s face burns in a blush, and she feels her legs tremble when the rest of the team turns to look at her. “I- did!” She scrambles to put a foot after another, Aglaea turning to her with a worried look. “My- I am not going to—”
“Woooah, easy there, princess,” Cipher’s warm voice says to her side, passing a hand across Hyacine’s waist to offer some support. “We ain’t gonna have our lead manager passing out on this stage, no sir!” She walks her to the stage, with Castorice walking closer. “Hey, Princess Homeboy! Your prince has arrived-!”
“I did not say I-“
Cipher lets go, and Castorice catches Hyacine within her arms.
The embrace is thigh, and warm, and she is going to ruin Castorice’s dress with sweat and some tears, and she doesn’t seem to care because she holds Hyacine like a longtime friend that barely managed to arrive at a party late.
“I am so glad to have you here!”
Why? “I’ll- mess it up, Cassie,” she whispers. “I am not good at this acting thing.”
“You will not, I promise.” She moves back, and she is so tall, she has to look down to find Hyacine’s gaze, and there is only gentle concern on her lavender eyes. “You are wonderful at everything you do.”
“You- don’t know that.” Hyacine’s throat tightens. Excuses, excuses, she can’t stop pouring them all out of her mouth. “You barely know me. All of us.”
“That is correct. But I think I know enough.” Castorice smiles, gentle and for Hyacine alone. “I know all of you care about this theater, and that you care about your friends. And I think you’re scared, just like me.”
Which doesn’t make sense, at all, because she is Castorice, talented and beautiful and easily likable by everyone in Okhema-
“But, when I am with you…,” Castorice continues, moving back a few steps, extending a daring hand. “I don’t feel that scared. So, maybe… if we do this together…, if I do this with you…, it may not be so frightening?”
This is a terrible idea.
This is, a terrible idea. She is going to freeze up. Or forget every line. Or miss a cue, or step on Castorice’s foot, or play herself a fool. There are infinite things that can go wrong, and it may prove her aunt right, that she is not built to be in the bigger stage.
But Castorice is looking at her.
She is here, and real, and looking with those bright lilac eyes, and Hyacine has not yet been able to say no to her. She is not particularly interested in breaking that line.
“Just a read-through,” Hyacine says, taking Castorice’s hand. Her palm is warm, and her fingers gentle around her own. “I’m not doing the whole thing by memory or anything.”
Castorice’s smile could power the entire university. “Just having you here is enough.”
By the time they reach Act Three, Hyacine forgets she is supposed to be scared.
“I have come,” she reads, script in her hands, almost forgotten, “to retrieve what death has stolen from me.”
Castorice turns, and with the lights following her steps, the effects answering to her cue, she embodies the role completely. Her usually warm voice drops to something ethereal, distant.
“You should not be here, my darling. Your place is with the living and the rest.”
“I don’t-“ Her voice breaks. She clears her throat and tries again: “I do not care where I belong. I only care where you are.”
Castorice takes a step closer. Hyacine’s heart drums against her ribs.
“Death has taken its claim on me” she whispers, eyes never leaving Hyacine’s face. “I am now beyond your reach.”
“So be it. Death itself will bargain with me if it has to.” She takes a step closer, out of cue, dragged by Castorice’s magnetic pull. “I will sing, until… uh…” She takes a glance at the script- “Until the stones themselves weep for you.”
Castorice’s fingers lean to brush Hyacine’s wrist- barely more than a touch, enough to send a shiver up her arm. She has lost count, but this is the furthest they have reached the scene. Her heart has stopped drumming in fear, and now sings in devotion; it’s easy to get lost in the way Castorice’s voice softens on certain lines, in the way they dance around each other without touching, with barely more than a guiding glance.
“You must not look at me,” Castorice, her own Eurydice, orders, voice barely above a whisper. “Not until you have left this place. If you turn back —if you look at me, my love—, I will be lost to you forever.”
Hyacine’s supposed to agree. Orpheus always agrees.
“How can I not look at you?” is, instead, what comes out of her lips, completely out of script.
The moment stretches between them, electric and warm, as what she just said hangs heavy in the air. Then Castorice smiles, soft and gentle and in a way that is completely hers, and improvises back: “You must try. For both our sakes.”
“I shall, my darling.” She improvises, script forsaken, as she lifts her jaw to hold Castorice’s close gaze. “I will, if only to hold again.”
The lights go off, and the backstage crew roars.
The spell is completely broken. Aglaea and Cipher both clap together, and some of her friends from the theater rush onto stage to squeeze Hyacine’s shoulders, and it just falls into her what she just did. And spoke. And all around, with who.
The blush burns hard and dizzily in her cheeks, and upon finding Castorice’s clear gaze, she finds her ears colored too. Oh, Kephale, help.
“That was really good,” Aglaea’s voice says behind her, walking towards both of them with a smile. “Both of you. I see experience has given you quite a talent, Hyacine. I take it you enjoyed at least some of it?”
“I-“ Of course not, she almost wants to say. Running here was horrible. She is damn sure she cried on the way there, and when Anaxagoras called, and the sole notion of doing it again terrifies her to her core. But… she did it. And it had felt nice… sort of. “Maybe I did.”
“Maybe she says! Listen to her play humble!” Cipher’s arms find home around Hyacine’s shoulder, a bold laugh out of her lips. “I sure saw some good chemistry there, I’ll tell ya ‘at. If people saw our Eurydice and Orpheus looking at each other the way ya look at Cassie girl they gonna be begging us to cast ya both in somethin’ together again!”
“I-“ The blush now surely burns down Hyacine’s neck and ears. “It was acting!”
“Suuuure. The scene and all, surely?”
Hyacine looks at Castorice for help, but she too is blushing, and so, Hyacine just gives up in the battle all together, letting Cipher’s good-humored laugh take some of her fears away with it. The play is almost done, Mydei will be back tomorrow, and Hyacine will be back in backstages where she has found home sooner than later.
For now, however…
“We are missing an scene, are we not?” Aglaea’s commanding voice orders, silencing the happy whispers of the crew. “Shall we give it a try, or are we too tired for it? We still have an hour left in here.”
Castorice turns to Hyacine with those bright, hopeful eyes, and her warm hand finds Hyacine. “Shall we?”
She forces the answer before she can reconsider.
“We shall.”
When Castorice beams at her, Hyacine finds herself understanding Orpheus.
Some things may just be worth the risk.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
4.
The night air is cold enough that Hyacine can see her breath.
She sits on the edge of Principal Cerydra’s roof, legs dangling over the side, nursing a cup of something warm that Miss Hysilens had pressed into her hands before she climbed up here. Tea, perhaps? Or hot chocolate. She hadn’t actually tasted it yet — her gaze is heavy on the way the city lights blur together below, the sounds of the party drifting up through the open window.
“You know,” Cerydra says from behind, voice carrying that mix of amusement and authority that seems to be her default setting, “when I handed over my house to celebrate, I didn’t expect our backstage star to spend the evening hiding in my roof.”
“I’m not… hiding?”
Cerydra arches her eyebrows. Hyacine busies herself with drinking from her cup - hot chocolate, it ends up being, and really hot, because she has to clear her throat to hide the burn in her throat.
“I just… needed some air.”
“Hmmh.” Cerydra, of course, does not sound surprised. She is leaning back on her hands, looking up at the stars rather than at Hyacine, which makes her both easier to talk to and harder to actually face. “And it has nothing to do with the fact our dear star has been looking for you the past twenty minutes?”
Hyacine blinks. Clears her throat. “... She has?”
“And she is really, really worried about you.” A pause. The principal is not one to mess with her words, even though Hyacine has the strong feeling that she wants to smack her. “We all are, actually. You’ve been… different, since this particular performance has been planned.”
Different.
That’s one word for it, surely.
The past week has been a blur of rehearsals - Mydei has recovered quick, to Kephale’s mercy, announcing he was better the very next day, but by then Anaxa had insisted that Hyacine continue helping Castorice practice. She needs to make up for the short notice, he had said, and Aglaea with Cipher in tow had agreed that it would be a good practice for her to lose her nerves.
And Hyacine, to her constant regret, had agreed. Because Castorice had looked so, so hopeful when dean Anaxagoras had suggested it, and Hyacine had found it hard to say no then, and then again and again whenever she asked they practice a bit, in-between classes, hanging out together at her apartment, all of it.
“My aunt called today,” Hyacine hears herself say.
Principal Cerydra goes slightly tense, which is an earthquake coming from her.
“Saw the poster for the play on Instagram.” Hyacine laughs, and it sounds so wrong from her own ears. “Someone from her crew recognized my name. Asked if I was related to her. If I was her niece, Hyacinthia, participating in the opera.”
“And what did she say to that?”
Hyacine takes another sip of hot chocolate. It burns going down, and it gives her something to aid in gulping down her desperate beating heart. “She asked if I was trying to embarrass her. Said I was…” Her voice catches. She clears her throat, and forces herself to continue in spite of it. “That they would be ashamed of, “wasting the education they paid for in such a play pretend”.”
Cerydra nods, and stays silent in the heavy awkwardness that follows in what can be nothing but shock coming from her. Hyacine has half a mind to laugh about it; it’s not often one can shock her so.
“She is not paying for your education,” she finally says, voice carefully neutral. “You have a full scholarship.”
“I know.” Hyacine’s gaze falls from the stars Cerydra follows, to the mug in her hands. “But she lets me stay at her house through breaks. And she - she is all I have left of them. So I can’t just - I couldn’t possibly just - “ Just what? Cut her off? She can’t possibly do that. Hyacine and her aunt may not get along often, or most of the time even, but if not for her, then -
“Hyacine.” Cerydra shifts, and suddenly she is not looking at the stars anymore, but directly at her. In the dim light from the window below, and the party Hyacine can’t enjoy, her eyes are dark in worry. “What did your parents want for you?”
The question catches her off guard. She gaps at her, blinks, thinks.
“I… would say they want me to be happy. And if able, help people. That’s why I’m studying medicine -”
“And are you happy?”
Hyacine opens her mouth. Closes it. Thinks about… the past week.
Classes with dean Anaxa, and jokes shared with Mydei and her friends, and- and Castorice’s hand in hers during the garden scene, and the way it feels when she gets a line just right, and Castorice’s whole face lights up as her turn to speak comes.
“When I’m in my classes,” she says slowly, “and when I am performing with Castorice… Yes. I’m happy.”
Cerydra smiles. “Then I think your parents would be proud.”
A certainty in her deep voice makes something in Hyacine’s chest crack open. She blinks rapidly, willing herself to not break down into tears like the crybaby she is, in the roof of Principal Cerydra of all people, the night before the biggest performance of her life.
“Your aunt,” Cerydra says, uncaring about her effort to avoid breaking down, in a soft voice that is that uncommon of her, “may be grieving. And it may turn her cruel in the search for answers. But that doesn’t mean her pain is yours to carry alongside your own. The world’s weight couldn’t possibly be held by one person.”
She stands up, swift and collected, and just like that it seems like her vulnerability moment is over. Hyacine can appreciate that it went longer than usual just for her.
“You are allowed to be happy, dear Hyacine, in case you need someone to tell you that. To want things.” Her gaze assesses her with the sharp look of an emperor staring at a warrior, and it makes Hyacine clear her throat and straighten her back, tears forgotten. “Be good at things, even. Be backstage or something else.”
“I- think I’m good with backstage, yes.”
“Mmhmm, of course.” Cerydra smiles, turning to the window. “I’ll have you know, just in case it is of your interest, that Mydei is currently being interrogated as we speak by your dear Eurydice. Someone should perhaps rescue him.”
“She couldn’t possibly-”
“She absolutely would.” Cerydra motions her with a hand to follow, not even bothering turning around, as if she thinks that Hyacine will step up immediately. “Come on. I didn’t throw this party just for our stars. Everyone plays a part!”
“But they are certainly the stars of-”
Cerydra is already climbing back through the window, and Hyacine simply has to follow.
By the time they come back, someone - probably, surely Cipher - has taken over the music, and the living room has been transformed into an impromptu dance floor. Students from the theater group mix with friends who had been invited to celebrate tomorrow’s performance. The energy is electric, and anxious, and Hyacine wonders if they shouldn’t be celebrating after the actual thing has happened.
She is interrupted by spotting Castorice in the multitude immediately.
Standing by Hysilens’s makeshift bar - hers and Cerydra’s dining table, laden with drinks and snacks -, still in that soft purple sweater she had worn to rehearsal earlier. She is talking to Mydei, who looks vaguely uncomfortable in the way he always does at social gatherings, especially when Khaslana is not around.
Their gazes meet. Hyacine’s heart drums a complicated rhythm in her chest.
As soon as Cerydra walks away, Castorice is rushing towards her, a big and warm breaking through her face, and making Hyacine forget just what she was talking with the Principal of all people.
“Hyacine!” Before she can prepare, Castorice catches her in a hug. “Where were you? I was getting worried - Mydei said he had not seen you, and miss Aglaea though maybe you had left, and-”
“I’m sorry,” Hyacine’s voice comes muffled against Castorice’s shoulder, and she doesn’t even consider setting distance, instead smelling the sense of lavender and something sweet. “I just needed some air. I’m okay.”
Castorice pulls back to look at her, hands still resting on Hyacine’s arms. She is so tall, Hyacine has to lift her jaw to meet her troubled gaze. “Are you?” She presses on, quietly, surely. “Okay?”
No, not really, Hyacine thinks. Her aunt just called to ask if she is an embarrassment. They are performing tomorrow to what seems to be hundreds of people, and if she does something wrong backstage then everyone will mess up and it will be her fault, and if Castorice continues touching her like that, and looking at her like that, the she may as well combust in the spot.
“I am now,” she says, instead, and means it more than she expects it too.
Castorice’s smile seems to grow just a tad bit bolder, and Hyacine smiles back.
The music shifts.
Something… slower, and around them, people start pairing off, swaying together.
Castorice glances at the dance floor, then back at Hyacine, and she sees the question in her eyes before it comes up, nervous and hopeful in equal measure. “Would you…?” She hesitates, uncertain like she had never seen her before. “Like to dance? With me?”
There is so many reasons to say no. She doesn’t know how to dance. They should all rest, because they have a performance tomorrow, and if it fails, they won’t have a second chance. Castorice is leaving at the end of the semester, and Hyacine can’t really afford to like spending time with her this much.
Instead, she takes her hand, nerves burning as their fingers intertwine, and lets herself be lead to the dance floor.
“I’m not very good at this,” she warns, as Castorice chuckles and settles her hands around her waist. “I’m probably about to step on your feet.”
“We will match, then,” Castorice answers, her smile soft, and fond, eyes sparkling like she is an actual star. “I’ve never… danced, like this.”
They sway together, clumsy and uncertain. Hyacine’s hands rest on Castorice’s shoulders, and she is hyper-aware of every point of contact - her thumbs brushing against her sides, the warmth of her skin through two layers of fabric, the way they are standing so close Hyacine can count her freckles.
“I’m glad you came back,” Castorice murmurs. “To the party, I mean. I thought maybe you had…”
“... what?”
“Left. Decided you didn’t want to…” Castorice breathes in. “You’ve seemed distant the last week. Since we performed together. I worried that maybe I did something wrong.”
“What? No! No, of course- not the case. It’s not- you, it’s-” Hyacine breathes in, wincing at her own rambling, fighting to gather her own anxious thoughts. “No, Cass. You’ve been perfect, ever since we met! It’s just…”
How to explain, actually? That Castorice makes her feel too much? That every rehearsal is terrifying because they grow closer, and she talks to her friends for once like they are her friends, and they don’t hang with her out of pity only, and that being with Castorice gives her a bravery she had never felt before?
“It’s… hard, for me,” she settles on saying, finally. “All of this is a surprise!”
Castorice’s worried frown softens with a sigh. “I understand. In-between us? I’m… terrified!” She shifts closer, as if to share the secret with her alone, and laughs right in front of her face. “It’s good we are scared together!”
And, to her own surprise, Hyacine finds herself chuckling, fingers trembling as she presses as close as she can to Castorice. “Including tomorrow?”
“But of course.” Castorice seems to have forgotten they are in a crowded room, speaking to her and her alone. “When I’m on the stage, and you are backstage, it won’t be me alone in front of the public. It’ll be us.”
Hyacine nods, breathing deep in. A promise has taken place!
They continue swaying, the music washing over them. Around them, the party continues - laughter and conversation and the clink of glasses -, but as Hyacine closes her eyes, she is only aware of Castorice. The way she fits around her when she presses her face to her shoulder into a hug. How she holds her carefully and close.
“Hyacine?”
“Yes, Cassie?”
“I’m… really glad I met you.” A pause. “I know I came here for school, and that has been fun! But I think…” She breathes in, deep. “I think the best part of being here has been meeting all of you. It’s been meeting you.”
Hyacine’s heart stops, and restarts, and beats three times the correct rhythm.
She should say… anything, really. Respond to that confession that definitely sounded like one, even though there clearly has to be a misunderstanding because why would someone like Castorice even consider someone like Hyac-
“I’m glad I met you too,” she pushes out of her throat, because it would choke her out if she kept it there. “You’re… the best part of this whole thing, really. The play. Studying. All of it.”
It’s not enough to express all that lies right there in her tongue, but Castorice chuckles anyway, leaning down to bury her face on Hyacine’s shoulders too, and hug her fully to her chest. “Good. Because you are the best part of mine.”
The music is sweet and slow, and tomorrow, they’ll stand on a stage together in front of hundreds of people, and try and tell a story of a love so strong it challenged death itself.
Tonight, this is enough, actually.
For this moment, Hyacine sighs, and allows herself happy in her arms.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
5.
Sleep is not so merciful.
Hyacine sooner than later finds herself back on Cerydra’s roof.
This time, Castorice has come with her, and they sit in comfortable silence, shoulders touching, watching the lights below. Castorice’s leg is pressed to Hyacine’s, slotted together like they are meant to, and her warmth radiates to her like a sun.
“Nervous?” Castorice whispers. “About tomorrow?”
“Terrified,” Hyacine admits. “But… less so than I would be without you.”
Castorice squeezes her hand. “We are gonna be wonderful.”
“You are going to be wonderful,” Hyacine corrects. “And I’ll work really hard to secure that from backstage!”
“Hyacine.” Castorice turns to face her fully, and she almost looks mad, as if she could manage such a feeling. In the moonlight, her eyes are like two stars in the night. “You are wonderful. It is because of you I got into this project!” She chuckles, leaning to press her check on her shoulder. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”
“How do you do?”
The question comes before Hyacine allows it to.
It’s far more vulnerable and raw than she wanted it to be, but Castorice doesn’t flinch.
“Like you are someone that made worth crossing an ocean for,” she says, meeting her in the middle. “Like you are someone worth staying.”
Hyacine’s breath catches.
“I came here for school. That has not changed,” Castorice continues, soft and warm, thumb brushing across Hyacine’s knuckles. “I have not regretted it, either! I’ve met you, and the team, and now, when I think- when I think about going back,” she takes a breath. “All I can think about is how much I’ll miss all of you.”
“D-don’t you have a sister and all waiting at home?” She can’t exactly relate, what with her aunt waiting to make herself feel like everything but home when she is on break, but Castorice has a far better-
“I do! I- do. I just…” Castorice shakes her head into her shoulder. “I’ve been… thinking. The distance has been good for us. She used to be my only friend, and now I have…!” she motions in the air. Hyacine gets it. “Maybe I could… extend my visa, if our grades stay as high as they are. Stay longer. If I…” she hesitates. “Had… enough reasons to…”
An implication hangs between them, heavy and electrifying.
Hyacine should say something. Tell Castorice yes, please, stay, that the thought of her leaving and Hyacine being alone again makes her chest ache. Should, perhaps, just maybe, acknowledge what’s been building between them since that first day in the infirmary.
But the words stick heavy under her throat, tangled up with her aunt’s voice and her own fears and the certainty that someone like Castorice, couldn’t possibly want to-
“I… should probably get back,,” she says, in the end, hating herself a little for it. “We both should. An early and busy day waits for us tomorrow!”
Something heavy flickers in Castorice’s face - it’s not disappointment, but it’s definitely something hurt, and Hyacine can’t take it, so she turns away, and when she looks again, it’s gone into a pleasant smile that fails to reach her eyes.
“Of course,” she murmurs, avoiding her gaze. “We both need to rest.”
They climb back through the window together, hands still intertwined.
And if Hyacine lies awake that night, replaying Castorice’s words, and what she wanted to answer, and the meaning of it all, that’s her own problem to figure out. For now, she closes her eyes, curled up in one of Cerydra’s bunk bed, Aglaea and Cipher sharing a sofa nearby, Castorice sleeping on the bed above hers, and really tries to sleep.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
+ 1.
She doesn’t sleep well.
It’s not a surprise at all, of course. She had laid in her bed staring at the wall, with thoughts trying to take the shape of Castorice, and the rest of thoughts taking over, a cloud of mismatching ideas crashing and turning into a storm that did not let her sleep. By the time it is seven, and her alarm and everyone else’s goes off, she has had nothing but a turbulent rest, and she sits up, bleary and heavy hearted, and decided it was fine because probably no one could sleep, and if Orpheus had descended into the underworld he probably had not slept much either.
As she walks into the theater building, the last to arrive just a tad bit after Castorice, miss Cipher and Aglaea on two had left, backpack clutched to her chest, script folded and refolded inside of it, and a cup of coffee in her hand, she repeats to herself, I’ll just do what Orpheus would, and find facing death would perhaps be easier than… this.
Chaos, everywhere she can see. Volunteers running up and down the stage, Aglaea doing final fixes into outfits, dean Anaxagoras really trying to put in some sense of control-
“Theeere she is!” Cipher’s voice cuts loud and strong the noise, and suddenly there are hands on HYacine’s shoulders steering her towards Aglaea with a smirk. “Ouuuur girl! Dear star! Our tragically, clearly sleep-deprived hero of the underworld-!”
Hyacine turns to her, confused.
“Miss Ciph, I should go to the other… direction…?”
“Nope! Change of plans!” Cipher’s grip on her shoulders grows stronger. “Go on, get dressed. ‘Laea!”
“But - why?”
“Mydei,” says Aglaea, walking with a dress on her left shoulder, a bunch of pins buried deep in the chest pocket of her shirt, “called in sick again this morning, dearest.”
Hyacine stops walking.
“He also said,” Cipher continues for her wife, thumbs running soothingly through Hyacine’s shoulders, as if they could help with the weight they just threw at her, “and I am quoting directly, tell Hyacine she was always better anyways.”
“He - what? I- that’s- that’s not-!”
“Program’s been updated, and I’ve been tasked with taking your role backstage.” Cipher deposits her in front of a mirror with the satisfied energy of someone who has orchestrated this exact outcome. “You’re Orpheus, little bird! You’ve been. You’re the most Orpheus person in this entire building, and everyone knows it except ya.”
Hyacine looks at her own reflection.
A part of her knew it would come to this, and is laughing at the sheer audacity. The other, far bigger, sees how terrible she looks, with the shadows under her eyes, and the bed hair, and how skinnier and smaller she is compared to Mydei, or Khaslana, or literally everyone that once dared to take on the stage, and ponders just how fast and far she could run before Cipher caught her.
“Great,” she says, finally.
“That’s the spirit! C’mon, Aggy!”
She doesn’t see Castorice until her second costume check.
Which is probably for the best, because Hyacine has spent the intervening hours in a state of productive panic - running lines with Cipher, reviewing blocking with dean Anaxagoras, eating half a granola bar before her stomach protested - and she is not sure she could’ve handled Castorice on top of all that.
But then, just as she finishes her own costume, fixing the red scarf and the guitar hanging from her back, the door to the women’s dressing room opens, and Castorice steps out in full costume. And Hyacine’s carefully maintained, functional anxiety just… stops.
Everything does.
She looks like- like she stepped out of the story itself. Miss Aglaea had done something extraordinary with the draping of her dress, all deep blues and silvers that seem to shift at a personal rhythm when she moves, and her hair is loose and long and free in a way hyacine hadn’t yet seen of her, falling around her shoulders like straight out of a painting. She doesn’t look like Eurydice; she is, embodying the character like she herself is the woman worth descending into the underworld for.
She spots Hyacine across the corridor, and her whole face does that thing she does, smile bright and relieved and warm, as she rushes to meet her. “You are here!” She reaches for her hand, and holds Hyacine’s gaze with a security she couldn’t possibly share. “How are you feeling?”
Like I’m going to throw up.
“As ready as I can!” Hyacine answers, chuckling in nerves.
Castorice hums, tilting her head just slightly, and squeezing her hand.
“Good!” She laughs, eyes sparking. “Me too.”
The theater fills up.
And then, it continues to fill up.
Hyacine can hear it from backstage - the growing murmur of hundreds of people finding their seats, the souffle and rustle of moves, the occasional bright burst of laughter. She stands in the wings, and tries to remember how to breathe.
It will be us, together. Scared together.
“Positions!” dean Anaxa calls, somewhere behind her. Then, when he has walked closer to her, and only to her: “Don’t think. You already know how to do this. Take control of your own tale, would you?”
From him, that’s about as close as a compliment she is going to get. Hyacine almost laughs.
The lights go down. The music begins.
She breathes in, shakes the tension of her shoulders, and walks into the light.
The strange thing - the thing Hyacine will think and replay over and over again afterwards, turning it over and over - is that it works!
Not perfectly, of course; she comes in half a beat early in one line on Act One, and there is that moment in the second scene where she went left but she was meant to go right, and had to improvise a recovery on the spot under the careful gaze of thousands, the heaviest of all from Cipher in the backstage, but it works.
It - it really works!
And then-!
“And I’ve been all along, in the darkest hour!” her Eurydice sings!, her hand in Hyacine’s, the light swarm and golden and the audience utterly silent, and Hyacine has stopped being Orpheus and has turned into someone who just won’t let her go.
She knows what comes, as the lights shift to a colder color. Orpheus turns back.
Orpheus has to turn back.
She knows that. It’s the big tragedy of it, really, how inevitable it is - Orpheus turns, and his Eurydice is lost, and that is the story, and the point, and why people have been telling it for thousands of years. To love is to loss and we keep reaching anyways, because grief is nothing but love’s receipt -
Hyacine turns around.
And Castorice is there.
Standing in the cold light exactly where she is supposed to be, the focus of the scene, not like Eurydice anymore; she looks like- like Cassie, with those clear lavender eyes and the freckles across her cheeks and the expression she gets whenever she watches Hyacine across a room, and she keeps telling herself it’s nothing, it’s friendship and friendship and love and Orpheus and Eurydice -
And so, Eurydice is lost.
Castorice takes a step forward.
A very, quietly, deliberately, completely and irrevocably off script, step forward.
Hyacine stands there and sees her come, and does not move because she cannot, because Castorice is crossing the stage towards her with the same certainty she had when asking her to dance, and offering to be her Eurydice, and maybe, just maybe, for each time she has reached out, it’s about time she-
Castorice stops in front of her.
“Cassie,” she whispers, and the theater is so quiet Hyacine can hear her own thundering pulse, “what are you doing?”
“You keep- almost saying it,” Castorice whispers, in the same tone, her voice steady in a way that makes Hyacine tremble. Then, she speaks again, louder for her and the audience: “My Orpheus, why have you turned back?”
What is she doing?
Hyacine’s heart has to have stopped. She is running on- something else, that grips at her ribs and heart and fuels her with something impossible to name. Cipher, from the backstage, looks almost amused, nodding along, and really, she is already there, who cares?
… who cares!
“My Eurydice,” she says, voice trembling. A warm light is once more pointed at her, and her alone, the colder one still pointing at Castorice, and the words flow out of her mouth like a mismatched vow. “How could I not? You are the reason for which my sun rises, the only thing worth workshipping.”
If they will go off scripts, may as well throw the whole train out of its rails!
Castorice takes another step, and when she reaches the warmth color of Hyacine’s light, she knows exactly what she will do; she jumps forward to catch her in her arms, and kneels, holding her to her chest.
The audience is completely silent. There is no music, of course; it’s clear to everyone this is something only Hyacine and Castorice follow.
And not even that!
Hyacine presses a trembling hand to Castorice’s jaw, and laughs.
“My Eurydice,” she says, loud enough to make her voice echo through the room. Then, barely higher than a whisper, “my Castorice?”
Castorice smiles.
“Speak to my grave, lover, and see to it if your love can raise me from it by music and grief alone. You are the only thing I could wait for from beyond!” she says, sort of resembling the original script. Then, as she leans forward, her voice comes directly against Hyacine’s lips and she has a small chance to back out. “I already emailed about extending my visa. I wanted you to know last nigh-”
Screw it.
Hyacine presses forward, and meets her confession with a kiss.
The audience erupts in cheers.
Not the polite applause she was expecting - real noise, the kind that shakes things, and she doesn’t exactly care, instead holding to the fabric of Castorice’s dress, and it’s clumsy and breathless and not choreographed at all, and nothing like they rehearsed-
And her lips are warm and soft against hers, delicate fingers pressing around her jaw, and it’s the best thing that has ever happened to her, on stage or anywhere else.
She pulls back, when she feels Cipher has turned off the lights and closed the curtains. Castorice meets her gaze, and there is no trace of Eurydice left in her face; only Castorice, her Cassie, bright and a little undone with a big smile.
“You’re staying!” Hyacine whispers.
“I am staying,” she confirms, her thumb tracing Hyacine’s cheek. “And- if you would have me-”
“Yes,” Hyacine sighs, before she can even finish such a silly question. Before her own brain can find an excuse or reason to retreat. “Yes, Cassie. Yes to everything.”
Castorice laughs, and leans in-
And the lights come up again, and the curtains open once more, to a thunderous applause that continues on and on, and somewhere in the wings Cipher is laughing in what can only be described as unhinged, clapping alongside the audience and motioning the rest of the actors to join in.
Hyacine stands in the center of the stage, rushing to help Castorice stand up, and in the wreckage of a myth about love and death and impossible things to do for each other, and thinks, with a clarity she never felt before:
So this is what it feels like to not look away.
Castorice’s fingers press around her own.
They share a smile, turn, and bow with the rest of the actors.
The public roars in approval and warm smiles, and Hyacine breathes in the satisfaction of a job well done.
(“What excuse did you even give them for your absence?” The boy asks, leaning over to the man with the face mask and the hoodie by his side. “Surely some stomach pain couldn’t take you so far?”
“I didn’t even need to give one. Anaxagoras didn’t ask for one; he simply said he saw the vision, and would fix it himself.” The blonde man shrugs, clapping alongside the audience from the back of the room. “If we all saw it, I guess he did, too. Ain’t that right, Philia?”
“What I find wonderfully funny, if I have to say, is that we kept a secret until we had come back in time for so long.” The woman in between both chuckles, shaking her head. “I am glad we did, however. Khaslana and I may have another chance in the future to act together now if the theater group survives, and Hyacine looks happier! Thanks for it, Mydei, and your oh, so humble sacrifice.”
“Say nothin’ of it. Castorice too looks happier.” He crosses his arms, and looks at the couple bowing on the stage. The face mask hides his smile, but his eyes spark in delight. “Glory finds those worth victory.”)