#phaistorice

The idea of Phainon fumbling a bit with his words just trying to pitch the idea of spending time with her like that, and Castorice, so well meaning and smiling so endearingly miraculously ends up agreeing

Perhaps shenanigans ensue in the background as the date goes on, with chaos at every turn as Tribios band together to settle and subdue whichever obstacles may stand in Phainon's way for a successful date!

Imagine Aglaea, all-knowing of every event that goes on in Okhema, momentarily pausing in the middle of sifting through boring documents after sensing a particularly embarrassing fumble from the Deliverer. Or Anaxa and Mydei being subjected to hearing all about the comings and goings of their date from Cyrene and Hyacine, who along the way had come to assist Tribios as they helped Phainon as subtly as they could manage in the background

Somehow, in some way, all the Chrysos heirs end up becoming involved in some shape or form with this date. Tribios at the helm, providing information, Cipher sneakily ‘helping’ Snowy and Princess Homebody into sharing a couple more stolen moments together; Cerydra might even pitch in with some wisdom of her own!... That would otherwise might or might not even be useful for Phainon's current endeavor as it would for her and Hysilens

And though the possibilities are unlikely, a part of me wishes for a stolen moment shared between Phainon and Castorice after the efforts of their fellow Chrysos heirs are accidentally revealed; perhaps they could go somewhere, somewhere far enough from Okhema and its eternal cycle of daytime. Somewhere where they could watch the sunset—that long-awaited hour when the symbol of dawn meets its parallel of dusk, and nightfall is bestowed upon them at last

Imagine Phainon wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around Castorice in an embrace encased in unfamiliar warmth. Imagine Castorice wanting for nothing but the chance to simply hold his hand, and averting her sullen gaze from his hopeful stolen glances knowing that with her power that wish was but an impossibility that could never come to fruition.

And then imagine Phainon picking up a stick, lightly joking amidst his own embarrassment, “Lady Castorice, the sunset is a pleasure we seldom indulge in back at the holy city. And although it embarrasses me greatly, I hopelessly ask if you would indulge me on this chance to guide you to a place where we may seize a more beautiful view.”

He'd hold up his hand and extend the other end of the stick with a slight flush to his cheeks, ears pinking. And Castorice would stare at him. She would stare at him for a while but she would stare at the stick in his hands for just a fraction longer—a softened glaze over her purple irises as the memory of a friend she'd once known flashed in the back of her mind. A friend who'd once used a trick quite like this, just to bequeath the illusion of strolling hand in hand.

And soon she would smile, at the memory and at the quiet realization of Phainon's intentions. “Very well,” Castorice would say to him in answer, and very gently she would grasp at the other end of the stick.

No longer would her eyes be downcast, and her gaze shifted to the setting sky, in awe of the seldomly seen majesty of the sunset and a heart filled with gratitude for the time Phainon took to give her this experience.

All while Phainon would smile softly at her, knowing that deep down there would be nothing remotely comparable to the gentle smile that graced her face.