#caemthe

/ OKAY SO- I will be answering this very broadly because I'm not familiar with w.uwa nor her character, and the little I know, it's because of you + the wiki, which i ended up reading to answer this in some shape or form. There's also the fact that there's a lot more depth you've given to her character that I would have to be much closer to in order to give some semblance of an answer, but ANYWAYS!!;; i'll mostly follow what I got from the bare wiki;

At first glance, I'll admit she seemed like a violent type of person, that's what I thought of when I first saw her outside of your portrayal, and I don't doubt there might be some shape of it, albeit to me, it seems more like an 'enhanced intensity' or a 'burning passion' rather than aggression, at least, not in the way Dante condemns it, so the 7th circle (which consists of the violent ones; towards themselves, towards others, against god and against nature) was quickly discarded after reading through her wiki.

The next sin I considered was pride, and although i feel like she -could- have experienced this at some point because of her life's circumstances (always being on top, the fame, only getting to realize how her partners felt once the dust was setled, although this isn't really her fault but more so other's personal wounds) this pride still feels more like it could be an eventual unconscious arrogance rather than out of malice; which is the most important thing. It really doesn't give an ill intention, so this one is also discarded (not to mention that the most important thing here is that pride isn't an actual circle in hell / in D.ante's inferno, it's a terrace in purgatory, so she wouldn't be in hell)

Continued // @caemthe

Nunnally smiled, uncertain what else she could do while listening to her guard and guide. What else could she say? She didn’t quite like how Captain Ningwei had addressed his general, and a brief tightening of her brows might have told him that calling Jiyan an idiot was not exactly welcome. But he corrected himself immediately, so she had no real chance to stand up for the man she had grown to care about so deeply. What a pity, indeed! She would have liked it.

She knew they stood no chance. Jiyan and her. Who was she to even imagine that she could win his heart? He was everything: young, brave, already recognized. The General of the Midnight Rangers. Nunnally had seen him in the capital city: how people listened to him, how his advice was valued, how important he was to the survival of his nation. Yes, he was someone special. One in millions.

…and he had the kindest smile she had ever seen. And his eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes. The way he looked at her; as if he…

But of course it was i m p o s s i b l e. Why would someone like him ever acknowledge someone like her? Because what was she, really? A spoiled daughter of a powerful man, well-versed in the lavish life -- but what could she actually do? Being a good hostess was all she had ever been raised for. Did he even need someone like her around him? And even if he did, what could she truly offer?

She would only be a burden. Someone to worry about. Someone who would make his duty even more difficult. And that was all assuming her father would accept Jiyan (which he would not). Because despite everything the young general was… well, he was not exactly what her father would imagine for his daughter’s husband.

And yet, even knowing all that – understanding and acknowledging the impossibility of her naïve, foolish dreams – whenever Nunnally was with Jiyan, it all seemed unimportant. As if they could face everything together. Overcome every difficulty. Because they --

No!; of course not. Jiyan did not love her. He could not, and he would not. But then why did Nunnally feel as if he did every time he was close? Every time he touched her; like in that lake, or when they were dancing… And if that feeling was real, then why, whenever he was gone, did doubt creep back so fiercely? That alone proved how unfitted she was for someone like him. For someone so bold, so powerful, so courageous.

It was wrong to hope. But it felt even worse not to.

“Hm…” – Nunnally murmured, suddenly realizing how rude she had been, failing to acknowledge the general’s friend. How ill-mannered! How clearly unfitted match for Jiyan! Why did her thoughts always circle back to that? Wondering whether Jiyan could truly care about a girl like her.

And suppose he could?

It was so hard to believe that everything that had happened between them that summer had not truly happened. Perhaps it did only because Jiyan didn’t know the real her. Would he still like her if he did? He would not. How could he? What would he think when he discovered she could not stand up to her father? That all her life she had tried to fulfil his wishes; even when she knew they were wrong, even when she knew it meant losing a piece of herself?

No. It was no good. Nunnally knew that the girl he had seen during those days together was not who she was anymore. Perhaps that young woman had only been the memory of someone she used to be. The final moments before the “old Nunnally” was to disappear, leaving only the noble lady her father wished her to become. And when the general would finally see the real her – the woman she was forced to become – what would he think?

His golden eyes would darken. And what would she see in them then? Not the usual kindness. Not that silent promise. Not hope. And not…love she sees despite everything? If not that then… what?

No! It was better to remain only a memory to him. Hopefully a cherished one, but still a memory. Nunnally shouldn’t dream anymore. She could not. She should simply accept what she was. Marry the man her father chose and --

But she did not want that either. She could not. She would not. Not after meeting Jiyan. So, what was left for her? She couldn’t become his lover, nor could she stay the flawless daughter her father expected. Nunnally didn’t know who she was anymore, and she didn’t know who she ought to become.

“I wish that were true… I wish I really were bold.” – she finally replied absent-mindedly to Captain Ningwei, acknowledging his praise.

And yet she missed Jiyan so much. Despite they were impossible.

---

He is here. He is coming to her.

And she is terribly unprepared. Nunnally has imagined their meeting differently. Panic rises within her. She doesn’t know what to do. She never imagined he would see her like this; here, almost in the middle of the military camp. Unprepared.

She has hoped… But what has she hoped for? Nunnally clutches the small plant in her hands; the mistletoe that has seemed like such a charming idea when she left the capital city. Now it feels like nothing more than a sad proof of her childishness. So, what is she supposed to do now?

Nunnally mutters disjointed words, building them into ridiculous sentences that barely make sense (to her). If only she could turn around and run; run as fast and as far as she could until she had no breath left and could collapse on the frozen ground and simply be forgotten.

Oh, I am sorry to embarrass you like this. To imagine things. To come here when I am not needed. Nor wanted…

But is that really true? Because when Nunnally looks into Jiyan’s golden eyes she suddenly sees that he does not think so at all. He is surprised, yes!, but glad? And even the silly plant, the ridiculous excuse, suddenly seems like something meant only to bring them together. And perhaps it does. Or perhaps it doesn’t matter. They would have ended up in each other’s arms anyway. And they kiss. As much as it should not be happening, it does. And strangely, it does not embarrass her the way she once imagined it would.

Oh…

It is the kiss that makes her strong. The kiss that makes her bold. The kiss that makes her understand she cannot lose whatever fragile thing exists between them. Nunnally must try. Nunnally must fight. Her life will never be the same again, because she simply cannot; cannot return to her old ways of pleasing the man she calls father.

…But she must.

She cannot put the general in danger. How could she? But Nunnally has no more time for such thoughts.

“Don’t… please…”

She smiles as she presses her fingers gently against his lips, and then her own lips steal the rest of whatever he meant to say. She does not need to hear it. Somehow she already knows. Instead, she kisses him again; this time without the excuse of the green plant against the white landscape.

Simply because she wants to.

Let others look. It does not matter. Because Nunnally loves. And she is loved. The simple truth she has tried to deny for so long suddenly rings clear and pure in the most unexpected place. Yet perhaps this raw, open landscape is exactly where such a truth belongs. Nunnally is bold. She knows it now. And more than that: she believes it.

Jiyan lifts her into his arms. She came for this. Nothing else matters. Only this moment. Only them.

ㅤㅤThe lion should rest assured that none of what is being orchestrated inside his head is fueled by malice or a caprice from the gods; in fact, the lion should join Odysseus in his search for the truth. Who knows ? Perhaps the modest and dependable Patroclus could be the first to crack the code. ❛ Have you ever met a Sphinx before? ❜ A simple question. This time, he held no intent in hiding his cards; on the contrary, he was inviting Patroclus by enticing that clever mind of his, planting seeds of curiosity inside his head. Seeing a Sphinx was, after all, possible within their current state of existence; now, meeting one? That was a completely different occurrence.

☥ @caemthe asked: Lupa noticed a scent akin to nostalgia and hesitation while she was talking to her friend. So she stopped talking then, and green eyes looked in the direction Cartethyia was staring, wondering what had made them pause. It was... an older couple and a young woman who looked around her age or younger. They looked like a happy family. "You know them?" The gladiator knew that Cartethyia technically belonged to a different time, so... perhaps they were old friends from the Order?

It was only by chance that Cartethyia's lapis lazuli eyes landed upon them as she and Lupa were passing by, letting time slip between their fingers with the joy of spending time together as they take in the beauty that is Septimont. Lupa's cheerful chatter a distant voice as her attention is focused on an older couple talking with a young woman holding a camera in her hands. Without listening, she can imagine that the girl wants to stop time in a fleeting moment that the camera is able to capture. She should've been there. The very thought makes her lips purse in a subtle pout, the arch of her fine eyebrow slightly downward. Were it not for the fact that her whole life prior to joining the Order of the Deep was a lie woven by Leviathan, she would've stayed right there, by their side. But that's all her life was before the weight of the prophecy and a vile god chained her. Fake. Counterfeit.

Her train of thoughts comes to a halt the moment a pair of jade eyes enter her field of vision, coupled with a question that she hears clear as day now that she's snapped from her reverie. A solemn smile is offered, her cornflower gaze adrift in the distance anew as a silent invitation to follow. ◜Those are my adopted parents... and their child.◞ Silence ensues briefly to put her thoughts in order, to remind her heart that she's found peace and it no longer needs to weep for a life that was never hers to begin with. ◜Perhaps it was fate's cruel jest. I couldn't find any trace of them after they moved from Ragunna, but here in Septimont, I discovered where they had resettled. Only... they no longer recognize me. The truth that I was their daughter was a memory the Threnodian crafted for them, disappearing when It was sealed away in the tower.◞

Regardless of her heavy sentiments on this matter, perhaps this was for the best.

◜I don't know what they went through after that fateful day, but at least... they are still alive. They even have their own child.◞ Their real, own child. As much as she wished that she was her other one, too, she is content with this outcome. Thus she turns towards the ruby-haired, roseate lips curling in a genuine smile despite the sadness that may still linger in the depths of her eyes. Cartethyia is fully aware of the sorrow that her words may convey, but she is happy. She truly is. ◜Watching them walk by some other day helped me find peace in it, now.◞ Slender hands unite together in a prayer, aureate lashes flutter to a brief close. ◜If they had died because of the Order's heavy hand, I would've felt true pain. But this... this is the best outcome I could hope for.◞ Periwinkle irises turn to look at the trio once again, the corners of her lips lifted with fondness to see them enjoying the picture they have taken collectively. ◜To live twenty years with the weight of a lost child... I don't want to imagine that kind of torment.◞

That's precisely why it is for the best, that her passing through their lives is nothing more than a dream to be forgotten.

◜Should they ever want to return to Ragunna even if just for a visit, I take pride and joy in the fact that they can do so without danger looming over them. Be it because of the Order of the Deep or Leviathan's threat.◞ Her smile grows even wider as she looks at Lupa, the corners of her eyes crinkle with similar joy as her lips. ◜And they can keep on living in Septimont as well, enjoying what the capable Ephor's hands leave behind. The danger of the Fractsidus and the Dark Tide is over, too... and that is all thanks to you, Lupa.◞

☥ @caemthe asked: [ eat ] + cú is offering a very delicious and lovingly made milky fish soup with the brightest smile known to mankind

Herein lies the biggest challenge that Cartethyia has been exposed yet: no amount of convoluted book text of the Order of the Deep's doctrine, no amount of Tacet Discords born from the second Dark Tide, no amount of nightmares that Leviathan amused itself with subjecting her to force her to submit nor amount of Tropicale Pizza can hope to contest. Indeed, there is an even bigger foe that none of the aforementioned could defeat even if they banded together for one same purpose.

Said foe being fish.

Roseate lips quiver in the thin line they are forced to withhold, anything but pout or frown at the food presented to her— no, she cannot allow herself to do that. Not when Cú, in all his good heart, went out of his way to capture this fish and turn it into an actually very pleasing-looking dish that she would eat without a problem! If it weren't for the fact that she knows that it contains fish. According to her faulty recollection of her childhood days, Cartethyia is no picky eater, only vividly reminiscing not being fond of fish, even less than the Tropicale Pizza no matter her strong belief that it is an abomination in and of itself to the Rinascitan gastronomy.

But why does she loathe fish so? Never once did she ever sit down to think of an answer, she simply does not. Were she give it a more profound consideration, it is, perhaps, out of association with Leviathan as the once worshipped god of the seas and everything it stems from them. Yes, that must be the reason... still. Cú isn't to be blamed for that! His generosity shouldn't be discarded so easily for something he doesn't even know!

Cartethyia picks up the spoon and glares at the soup before her once more, then back at Cú who awaits with anticipation for her to eat, his lips curled in a smile that reaches his eyes— a smile she has never seen from him until this moment. Why does it have to be just this instant of all moments?! Cornflower gaze drops to the soup anew, to its color. Even from this distance she's able to feel the smell of fish, although admittedly is well masked. Maybe... maybe it should be the same with the taste? The milk might be able to be so present in the dish that the fish taste is barely noticeable, in combination with the vegetable that give a nice pop of color to the paleness of the dish. Well... here goes nothing.

Ultimately does she brave up to pick a spoonful of the soup and bring it closer, closer to her lips, the smell of fish becoming only more notorious the closer it is to her. But she doesn't give up here, no. She opens her mouth and sips the soup. Just as she had expected, her worst nightmare became true: an overwhelming fish taste attacks her taste buds, making her dream with its taste for several nights to come. No amount of Laurus Salad will suffice to forget the taste of fish.

Nevertheless, she masks it all through a non-expressive face as she puts the spoon down and grabs a napkin to tap it gently against her lips to gain a little bit of time to let those first impressions fade away. Lapis lazuli open thereafter, peering into Cú's ruby eyes moments before she closes them in a gentle smile. ◜I can feel the love you poured into making this dish. It's heartwarming.◞ Unbeknownst of the poor man, the inner battle she had to face where its battlefield was her mind was catastrophic. But it is better for him to not know, not when he looks so happy as he now follows suit to eat his soup with so much joy.

For the love of Imperator, please don't make me eat fish again.