Cassandra sits in her living room, space completely cleared as she sits on the floor. She has all of her materials in hand, her books of instructions and… the little bit of memory she has of how to do it.

She’d come out of Arcadia knowing she was meant to create. Considering her Durance, she never did understand why. Why did you make me play constantly if you weren’t going to make me better at playing? I’m a wonderful player, but why am I an Artist? Why am I better at creating than playing? Something that had always confused her.

She gazes down at her fingers, flashes of images of splinters and bleeding fingers. Bleeding, but not bleeding red - bleeding in beautiful prismatic color. She can feel herself working with her fingers, sharpened to slice through the wood herself, something that didn't make its way out of Arcadia. You have to be beautiful. Perfect. You cannot know your instrument until you can build it.

A tear slips from her eye, but she doesn’t wipe it. I won’t let you be the reason I keep from doing what I need to do. From enjoying my life. From using my gifts. My memories are reminders, not hindrances.

She lets out a slow, shaky breath. Putting her exacto knife down for a moment, she looks at the work shaping in her hands. A beautiful, intricate bridge. This will be the foundation for her strings. It’s the smallest piece, considering the larger size of the cello, but there was a personal touch to it. She has carved a symbol of a uncaged bird, wings extended. I’ll never be caged again.

Evening 1



Cassandra smiles as she works on the neck of her instrument. The long wood and plastic finally taking form, the scroll perfectly swirled like a rose. She takes the time to carve little notches in the wood forming vines, flowers and butterflies. They were insignificant, sure. They didn’t add anything too special, but it was special to her. Even if it took her hours and hours to complete, she could do this. She wanted this.

She works on the neck carefully, adding the playing guide dots where she knows they are needed. She puts the notches down at the bottom where the strings she had brought will be guided upon from the bridge she had built.

Maybe this was symbolic. A new instrument. A new start. So many things in this new start, it was dizzying. As she works, she considers the people she has met. Yamiyo, sweet, but needs guidance. Though, is her nature so far ingrained that she can’t be taught subtlety? She didn’t know, but she hoped she could help.

Sera had been so incredibly sweet to her, talking to her about the people, the history, talking about love lost and love gained, marriage, and parties. It made her giddy, thinking about dress shopping and clothing shopping with the girls. It was incredible just how comfortable the Spring Queen had made her feel. She hoped it wouldn’t turn around on her. Though her mind hops back to the last Spring Queen she knew.

“Boys are the root of all of our problems,” Ygraine says, raising her glass with a laugh. They’re all sitting at a table in the bar, the four of them. Ygraine, Bellatrix, Cecilia, and Cassandra.

“You’ve got that right,” Bellatrix, the Telluric, exclaims with a loud sigh, taking a long sip of her drink.

Cassandra groans, her cheeks flushed, clearly from having consumed a more than moderate amount of alcohol, “Boys pretend to be your boyfriend, make you fall in love with them, and then steal you off.”

Cecilia, the Leechfinger, pffts, “Boys steal your shit and then leave you out in the woods.”

“Boys become your fiancé, show you their true form, then when you freak the fuck out, get you committed to a mental institution and then you get captured by a fucking alien thing.” Everyone pauses and takes a look at Bellatrix. She takes a long swig of her drink before bursting out in laughter and the rest of them just follow.

The memories give Cassandra a bit of a laugh. A good laugh. She needed that. It took her a bit longer to get the neck just right, particularly compared to the bridge, but it turned out beautiful in the end.

Evening 2



The body was the hardest part for Cassandra. The bridge was difficult, particularly with the uncaged bird, but the body was larger and difficult to make exactly right.

She measures and works tirelessly, using her tools to put it all together. She gives the base a good tap, hearing the way the wood echoes perfectly for the sound. Her mind begins wandering then. Gerrit. What was he fully about? She still hadn't taken the full time to spend time with him. She needed to. Getting closer to her court mates needed to be her number 1 task. Not task... that sounds malicious somehow. But, just... she needed the friends and she really wanted to feel close to them. Maybe that was naïve though.

And how the hell is she feeling about John? She feels confused and unsure of everything when she is around him.

Do I like him? Am I just confused and want some level of companionship, platonic or otherwise? Do I just enjoy teasing him a little bit? I don’t even know. That bothers me.

It’s barely been a year since Phillip left me, but it feels like a lifetime ago. I’ve changed so much since then. Would we even mesh if he wanted me back? Would I ever be able to fulfill his ambitions and desires? I just want something simple. I want someone who at least tries to care about people, who isn’t someone I need to worry about regressing my own progress for recovering and caring for people. I need someone who isn’t going to just up and leave me.

And yet, there it is. John is still in love with his Keeper; he’d likely always be in love with his Keeper. He’d never like me like that even if he we did grow close. He’d just leave me like Phillip did. The thought makes her cringe. Stupid. Why are you thinking about this crap? That makes her chest feel tight for a moment and she doesn’t realize that she has been holding her air. She lets it out slowly. C’mon girl. Don't let your lonely heart fuck up your friendships. You're perfectly happy on your own.

She looks off to the side a little and shakes her head. I need to be a better friend than this. I need to keep these weird intrusive thoughts to myself.

She sighs once more as she continues working. I’m going to be a better person and a better friend. Something about that motivates her. I can do this.

The intrusive thoughts made her work on the body difficult. She nearly stumbles at first, but then she gets it together. Her newfound motivation guiding her. Finally, it was done.

Evening 3