cassiopeiagarcia

[cassiopeiagarcia]

Yeah, yeah and I bet you were not expecting to find a Spanish speaker this easily in Japan, huh? Well, you're in luck. There's four of us! Five if you take Orión into account but we don't talk about the worm. I swear, if you fall in love with him too I will scream and gouge my eyes out.

Anyyyyywaaaaay. I won't speak in Spanish to you if you don't want to. I don't feel like torturing you, not yet. Let's see if I like you - and end up keeping you. So far, it's a yes!

[from @cassiopeiagarcia]

How much is exactly a little bit of Spanish? Es decir, ¿si te hablo así me entiendes o simplemente sabes pedir una cerveza y that's all, amigos?

“Sé lo suficiente para .. para arreglármelas y charlar — I think? Gods it’s been so long since I’ve actually had to use it .. sorry about that. Not many people speak Spanish to me.

But If that’s what you’d prefer, then by all means, go ahead yeah? I’ll try my best.. even if it takes me a moment to process.”

[cassiopeiagarcia]

I mean... I think you know by now you only have to ask. Or maaaaybe sing. And I'll do anything you want ~

Also, is not like the door to my room is locked, right? I'll be waiting for you. I am waiting right now.

-Cass

Miss ya. Come back.

Make me.

[cassiopeiagarcia]

For you? Always.

For whoever demanded me to come back? Nuh-uh.

But now, tell me, what mischief have you done in my absence!?!? And what will we do now that I'm back!?

-Cass

Miss ya. Come back.

Make me.

[cassiopeiagarcia]

Miss ya. Come back.

Make me.

[cassiopeiagarcia]

OLIVIA COOKE as ALICENT HIGHTOWER House of the Dragon | Season 2 Teaser Trailer

[cassiopeiagarcia]

Olivia Cooke in new promotional stills for 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON' Season 2

[cassiopeiagarcia]

Once upon a time, in what is now Jaén, Andalucía, there was a king. And a war. Such stories usually begin this way, don’t they? Two swords clashing; the leaders of two opposite sides, the last ones standing. Around them, nothing but corpses. The sky darkened by the amount of crows flying towards the battlefield, attracted by the smell of blood, even if they yet couldn’t see it. Hungry, impatient to claim the soft tissues, to rip eyeballs from their sockets. While both kings fought and fought and fought to the death.

Moors against Christians. The year 1212. Moroccan and Arabian forces crossing the Strait of Gibraltar and ending the reign of the Visigoths. The creation of Al-Andalus, a place that would become a center of production and cultural interaction. A home for bright minds, with even brighter futures. But not all agreed – some others, of fairer skin and lighter eyes, consider the land as theirs. Could someone really claim that a piece of soil belonged to them? It seemed to be the case.

And as such, wars were fought and won and lost and treaties were sent and none of them accepted by any of the sides. ‘We won’t retreat,’ had the Moor king said. And as such, he had gone to war, in shining chainmail and armor, arm raised, holding a sword. Him and his horse disappearing into the horizon were the last things his most adored treasure, his daughter, had seen before being hidden underground, locked inside a secret room only her father knew about, with enough provisions and oil lamps so that she could survive until he was back. He hadn’t told anyone about it, hoping he could keep her safe. His last, and most fatal mistake.

Because he never returned. The Christians were victorious; her father’s heart had been punctured by a spear. She hadn’t been there to see it, but had she been, she would have watched as the king was standing there, in his white steed one second and then… not anymore. Strides behind it, he laid now, with the blade deep inside of his chest and a red stain that grew bigger and bigger and bigger. Eyes open, misted, that watched no more.

But Cassiopeia hadn’t been there. And as such, she trusted in her father’s prompt return. Prayed for it, even when madness started to get a grip on her mind, even when she had run out of oil for the lamps and of things to eat. Soon, she knew the truth she had refused to accept: no one would be coming for her.

Winter and hunger, worse enemies than entitled men. A battle she couldn’t really win. Desperation and insanity. Cassiopeia thought she would die – but she didn’t. Feverish, she couldn’t feel her frozen legs any longer, but when she touched them with numbed fingers, she found scales. Like that of a reptile.

It wasn’t long until despair became anger. And thirst for vengeance.

No longer could the big stone that acted as the door to the secret room keep her in. No longer was she scared of venturing out. No longer did she care about anything other than blood and killing and separating heads from bodies and sticking her sharp teeth on warm bodies be it woman, or man. The last vestiges of humanity she had left, she used them to sing. On dark nights, walking around, with her serpent tail acting as legs, the top half of her body covered only by red curls that reached her hips.

Whoever listens to me sing

Won’t see the light of day

Or the night of San Juan…

It was precisely the night of the 23rd of June that she found out something that would change her immortal life forever.

She woke up, ready to kill and rip and murder, as hungry as ever, to realize she didn’t crave blood. Instead, bread and potatoes and spiced meats like her mother used to cook filled her mind. Shaking her head to dispel those thoughts, she stood up from the humid floor of the castle dungeon she had made her home, only to find she still had legs.

A pair of white, sickly-looking things, filled with bruises but not with scales.

Each step felt like a thousand knifes stabbing the soles of her feet, and yet, she danced and sang and cried of happiness and did so some more when she found an old dress that had belonged to a maid once and put it on and went to the nearest town and was served mead, and bread with meat and potatoes and danced to the tunes of the local tavern’s bard, until he asked her if she wanted to spend the night with him, and she did, kissing him until her lips were sore and stroking his skin, his hair, until her hands were tired.

However, by morning, a blinding pain.

And she didn’t have to lift the sheets to know, she was half serpent again.

Because the bard’s meat had been ripped from his bones, his blood sucked and the tender hands that had caressed her body were not anymore attached to his.

Cassiopeia ran away. And hid. And started eating only lonesome travelers that deviated from the road, or those that wanted to see the legend of the Tragantía, as the locals had started to call her. She cured her bloodthirst with those that invaded her privacy, furious with their behavior, feeling rage travelling through her body instead of blood, plasma, and other fluids.

And still, every San Juan’s night, she went out. She bathed, carded her curls, wore a dress. She was still a celebrated beauty; slanted brown eyes, full lips, a round face. Too thin, from the famine before her transformation, but nothing a blouse and a skirt couldn’t mask.

Every year, she wandered the world. Stood wide eyed in front of new things – a television, you say this is called? Are there little people inside? – and heard people’s stories, mostly in bars she entered, pretending to be a foreigner, justifying that way the way in which she spoke Spanish; using strange words, that were out of fashion. But Cassiopeia still managed to make herself understood and to learn, so that hopefully, the next year, she wouldn’t draw as much attention to herself.

It was 2020 when she met him.

A man, another traveler. Perhaps looking for something else in that small town, but finding her. And she knew; finding him was one of the reason why she had been alive for over 800 years, why she hadn’t wished to die any of them. A scholar, maybe, asking questions about eternal life, immortality, a deity he called Sleep. Local legends.

‘I can tell you all about them,’ Cassiopeia said out loud, with a smile, drawing shapes on the wooden table using a finger as a pencil.

‘I would be thankful…’ He seemed to be looking for a way to call her.

‘Cass.’ Her smile grew wider.

Hearing her name come out of his mouth was like a dream come true. Telling him all about the Tragantía, the beast who many used to scare their children when they misbehaved in Cazorla, didn’t. And that’s why she confessed, after their lips had met in a dark alley, remembering the fate of that bard and not wanting this to happen to him. To Alexander.

She told him everything. How she had been left to die. How consumed by hunger and thirst she had gone crazy. How she had cried, waited for her father to return, but he hadn’t, he hadn’t and her prayers had been directed towards a deaf God who hadn’t replied to them, and…

Others would have questioned her words. Would have screamed in horror. But not him. Instead, he placed an unruly curl behind her ear, and looked at her straight in the eyes.

‘You’re the most beautiful monster I have ever seen, then.��

Was he joking?

They had gone their separate ways, after the light of the morning had started to illuminate the small hotel room they had rented for the night. With a promise. One that she hadn’t thought he would fulfill.

‘See you next year.’

However, there he was in 2021. And 2022. And 2023. Waiting for her, spending hours simply talking, holding her hand, kissing the top of her head, her cheeks, her lips, her shoulder… as if he had truly missed her.

As if he loved her, as much as she loved him.

@j-ofspades

[cassiopeiagarcia]

[cassiopeiagarcia]

Another night of wandering aimlessly beneath an inky black sky. The city lights were too bright, they blotted out every trace of stars. 

Vessel missed them, stars. When melancholy got to him–as it often had for the past century–the fact that he couldn’t even find comfort in the night sky tore at his heart. 

‘That is the great curse of Immortality: everything else changes while we stay the same; a fixed point amid a vortex. Find a reason to hold on or you will lose your mind.’ Such had been the lessons of his Maker.

As it was, Vessel hadn’t really believed that the ritual he had volunteered for almost 6,000 years ago would actually grant him immortality. He had volunteered because it was his duty as High Priest, the wearer of the Sacred Mask, The Vessel. He had given up his name upon joining the mysterious cult, and he became an oracle, the author of many prayers he still sang every once in a while.

But the ceremony had worked just as they said it would. He was emptied of blood and given the blood of an old god, over and over. His Maker was patient during the agonizing process, he told Vessel everything he knew, but he also told him that all of it meant nothing, that ultimately he would have to find his own meaning or the only constant in his very long life would be loneliness.

‘There is no such thing as true Immortality,’ his Maker had said. ‘If you survive the ritual, you will have an incredibly long life, beyond the wildest dreams of men, maybe ten lifetimes. But everything ends, there are things that can kill you. And, in all honesty, you will probably end up thinking about this as a curse, and you will want to end it yourself. At 900 years, I am the oldest immortal that endures.’

The transformation enhanced his senses. Vessel felt awake in a way he had never been. Six thousand years later, never, not once had he felt despair gripping him; and even if he sometimes longed for a connection he wasn’t sure he’d ever find, he was convinced he wanted to keep living.

And then one night he found it when he wasn’t even looking for anything. A young woman, the embodiment of one of the ancient goddesses that Vessel used to pray to, he was sure of this. Her red hair caught his eye but the fire in her eyes burned a path to his heart. This was the connection he hadn’t been able to find.

Vessel thought there were no new experiences left for him to discover. After spending a few nights with Cassiopeia–Cass, just Cass–he realized how wrong he was. He would have liked to court her properly, but unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly visit her during daytime. How did they manage to meet repeatedly at night? Well, the deity had her favorites, and in that moment, Vessel believed himself to be one of them.

He couldn’t keep his secret from Cass for long. He didn’t want to. Vessel wanted to share all of him with her, and he hoped she felt that way. So he told her what he was, assuring her that if she chose to stay away from him, he would respect her wishes and disappear from her life. When Cass said she wanted to be like him, to walk the same path… 

Turning someone was something Vessel had never done. He’d never met anyone he believed could bear the burden, and he wouldn’t have done it lightly. 

During his long life, he’d witnessed the rise and fall of entire civilizations. Humans were so very interesting to him, their perseverance, their desperation to be relevant, to be remembered. But just as he’d been a silent observer to their history, he’d been slightly more involved in vampiric history. 

How did younglings keep finding him? To Vessel anyone under a thousand years old was a youngling, which made it… almost every remaining vampire. He knew most of them thought of him as an oddity, as a legend, a myth, even those who had met him.

Which was why he didn’t participate in their affairs. Vessel knew of the Vampiric Council; he'd been present when it had been formed, something like two thousand years ago, but he never accepted the Seat he was offered. 

Still, when he was about to turn Cass, he decided to play by their rules. The Council demanded to know whenever a vampire turned someone. The creation of new vampires was heavily regulated since the turn of the century, to avoid raising suspicion. Vessel didn’t want powerful enemies, it was best to keep The Thirteen happy.

Vessel believed the Council session would be more of a formality, something along the lines of “I’m just letting you know that I will do this”, but as it turned out it was actually a vote. Which he lost.

Many reasons were given for this refusal, chief among them, the fact that his blood would be too powerful for the process, and that he hadn’t even known the “candidate” for a decade, not even a year.

‘It is but an infatuation, son, it will pass.’ Those had been the words of the Head of the Council. Patronizing, condescending. Vessel was half convinced he was jealous. Of what? His age? His depth of feeling?

Some vampires had tried to appeal his case. Vessel would never forget them: an exquisite woman with wise eyes on a heart-shaped face and long blond hair; the equally alluring vampire with dark hair who sat next to her (and held her hand); another vampire he’d seen from time to time, gorgeous, charismatic, charming.

What Vessel did next he would live to regret every day.

He had decided to go behind the Council’s back and turn Cass anyway. They could find some other remote place to live in. Wherever, it wouldn’t matter as long as they were together.

Vessel started the process with more faith than he’d ever had when he was a priest. The truth was that he was scared. He hadn’t done this, ever, but he trusted his instinct would tell him what to do. He bled Cass to the point of unconsciousness and then tore a vein in his arm to give her his blood.

Chaos. Confusion.

Someone broke into his house. In his weak state, Vessel couldn’t fend them off, there were too many of them, three maybe four strong vampires keeping him away from Cass. Vessel screamed like a wounded animal, begging for her life. But they drank from her until her heart stopped.

He tried to wake her, he fed her his blood but he realized she wasn’t taking it anymore. There was nothing he could do. Love turned to grief in his heart and then he felt hollow, empty, convinced he would never find another love.

Never again, he swore to himself. Going through that loss had almost made him take his own life. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that his beloved wouldn’t have wanted that. 

That, and the fact that he still felt her. A maddening presence in the periphery of his mind, never within reach. If he hadn’t been there when it happened, if he hadn’t attended her funeral and read her obituary, if he hadn’t weeped at her grave, he would swear that she was still alive somewhere, calling to him. Maybe he was just losing his mind.

Endless life became endless mourning. And so it was, for almost almost ninety years.

Vessel crunched the fancy card between his fingers. A party, really?

The Vampiric Council had betrayed him, so ever since Cass’ death he stayed away from their frivolous business. How could they presume to have the power to vote on who got “The Gift”.

As he was about to throw the invite into the flames he unfolded it and read the names. He knew them, he knew their faces. They had tried to help him, they had passed judgment on the rogue vampires who had killed Cass. 

Rumor had it that the hostess was a powerful psychic. Young, not even 600 years old but adept at telepathy. If she could read thoughts, maybe she could take them out. Vessel didn’t want to forget about Cass, but he wanted to understand why he could still feel her, he wanted to know if reason had abandoned him, just as love and hope had.

[cassiopeiagarcia]

[cassiopeiagarcia]

‘For such a clever girl you do a lot of stupid things.’ Her stone-cold words and tone clashing with the crooked smile her lips bent into, Andrómeda was a vision. She had always been, as far as Cass' memory went… which wasn’t too much. Roughly eighty-seven years. She had lived longer than that, twenty-six years longer, in fact, but of that previous life before being bitten by Laszlo Cravensworth, her brother-in-law, and turned into a creature of the night, she had little recollection.

‘Yeah, I admit it wasn’t my best idea.’ Cass’ shrugged, as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, changing her position because under the stare of her sister’s dark brown eyes, one could stay still for only so long.

She had, not for the first time, decided to terrorize her neighbors. Nothing much. Just used her telekinesis to make a few books fall from the shelves, get their dog to stare at an empty corner of the house and bark and groan and howl for a while. But yeah… since it hadn’t really… been the first time…

‘They’re going to end up calling a priest.’ A thick British accent. Laszlo, entering the room, smiling adoringly towards his wife as if they were still in the honeymoon phase instead of about to celebrate ninety years of marriage. He didn’t sound disappointed, only perhaps… mildly annoyed, but Cass’d bet he was used to her antics after an entire lifetime of putting up with her and Hércules.

‘Noooooo, they won’t. They’re atheists. They’ll probably just… move somewhere else.’

‘Like the previous ones did?’

‘Come on, Lasz! Admit it. It was a little funny.’ Cass tried her best. The same lopsided smile Andro had, but showing her teeth. Like a shark, or a wolf; like a predator. She lifted index and thumb, separating them only by a few millimeters. ‘Hilarious, I’d say.’

‘It was, but…’

‘That’s not the problem, Cass,’ Andro interrupted. She was shaking her head, but she wasn’t angry. More like… worried? ‘We need to keep low. Hércules works in Walmart. Why can’t you…?’

‘I’m not working in Walmart.’

‘No, no, of course not. But maybe… find some hobbies? Try to get out of the house? Hopefully do something that doesn’t involve our possible demise.’

‘Easy to say. You can be here forever and you’ll never get bored.’ Cass looked at Andro. Her older sister was beautiful, tasteful, discreet, elegant, had a refined sense of humor and an eye for business and, even if she was always the brightest star in the room, she never, ever, stole anybody’s entire attention for herself. Everybody loved her. Laszlo most of all. Proof of that were the moans and groans and different sounds of pleasure that flooded their bedchamber every single night. And sometimes, mornings and afternoons, too. 

The black-haired woman looked at the ring that adorned one of her hands. A gigantic diamond, the biggest stone that Cass had ever seen. She was glad Andro was happy. She was glad that they’ll be together as a family forever – literally. She just wished her idea of having fun didn’t clash as much with Lasz and Andro’s. 

She sighed, and, seeing as she wasn’t going to get an answer from neither of her companions, ended up nodding. ‘Sure. I’ll try to keep my torturing to a bare minimum.’

Again, she found herself missing someone. Something. A mask. A white mask with six eyes, that’d cover everything but the lower half of the face of the person wearing it. She didn’t know why, but in the last eighty-seven years, that mask had appeared in her mind time and time again, like a calming balm, like a beacon of sanity, like God’s answer to a prayer. Whenever she thought about it, Cass felt at home. A love so pure that it couldn’t be questioned. Where are you?, she asked, not for the first time.

Could he (she was sure it was a he) hear her? Would he answer, if he did?

*

The letter had arrived a few days after that conversation.

Dear Vampires, from all around the world.

We cordially invite you to a ball, a party, a reunion. It has been far too long since our last meeting in 1965… was it 1965? Ah, how fleeting memories are when you live forever. Anyway, we did think it was time for a réunion, as the French would say. To meet the newest members of our ranks, as well as to resume contact.

Please, confirm your attendance.

Signed,

The Vampiric Council.

‘A party,’ Andro summarized, after reading the letter out loud, with barely contained excitement. Laszlo, with his right arm surrounding his wife’s waist, was also smiling; he smiled whenever she smiled, so that literally said nothing about what he thought of this whole thing. He would have flooded their house with cockroaches, if Andrómeda had said it made her happy.

‘Cool.’ Hércules was a chill, laid-back guy. He was sitting down in one of the sofas in the living room, dressed with wide-leg jeans and a cool graphic t-shirt from some videogame only he knew about, reading a comic book distractedly, one he held between fingers full of rings. None of them silver, of course. 

Cass was the only killjoy. Her immediate response was to pout. ‘I don’t want to go.’

She wished she hadn’t said anything, because suddenly, her family members were looking at her with interrogative eyes.

‘What? I never have a good time. It’s always the same thing,’ She complained, feeling more and more like a toddler about to have a tantrum. ‘I don’t like it. If I hear one more comment about me having weird fangs again…’ 

It was common knowledge that all vampires had different fangs, depending on their bloodline. Andrómeda and Hércules had the same as Laszlo. Because he had been the one to turn them. And, while he had turned Cass too, hers were different; slightly bigger, more animalistic. Why? Nobody knew. But everytime she had met other vampires they had said the same thing: oh, what a strange pair of fangs you have, never seen anything quite like it…

It annoyed her. It made her feel like an outcast.

‘Cass…’ Andro was suddenly by her side. Her movements, fast and quiet. If Cass hadn’t seen her feet touching the ground she would have thought her older sister was levitating. ‘I want you to come. And… you should come, you’ll see Airi. And Aki.’

‘They’re your friends, not mine.’

‘They love you.’

Fine. She loved them too, but to admit it would be to lose what little power she had left.

‘I reaaaaaaally don’t want to go.’

‘Cassiopeia,’ Laszlo only used her full name when he was serious about something. ‘We all want you to come. It wouldn’t be the same without you.’

A small smile, but she still wasn’t fully convinced. Hércules stood up, then, throwing his comic book aside with all the drama and flair he could manage. ‘If you don’t come, I won’t go either, but you know this is probably my only chance to get laid in at least a decade, so…’

That made her laugh, and she ended up nodding, feeling like this was a battle she couldn’t really win. ‘Fine, I’ll go. But only because it’s the only way Hércules can get a potential partner for the night. Can I wear a Halloween mask and scare people?’

‘No,’ Andrómeda said, as stern and loving as only a mother (or a mother figure) could be. ‘But, you can wear one of my dresses.’

[cassiopeiagarcia]

‘Can you go pick Hércules up?’

‘Me? Why me?’

‘Because you’re also his older sister?’

Oh. True. Sometimes Cass forgot her and Hércules weren’t the same age, since they behaved pretty much like twins. Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Or, if you wanted something slightly more national, as the siblings were Spanish… Zipi and Zape.

She nodded in Andro’s direction, watching as she disappeared.

It was weird for Cass to feel that she was so close to Hércules, who was two years her junior, and to see Andro so, so far, even if she was merely a year older. So distant. Like something that you see is there but can’t quite grasp, like grains of sand escaping your closed fist at the Beach, doing it so at an alarming rate…

She sighed. It wasn’t like it was Andro’s fault. The black-haired woman just acted that way because her parents had never really stepped up and proven worthy of the title of mum and dad. Just those words made Cass cringe. Mum. Dad. People you could look at, recognize certain features from: the slanted eyes belonged to Fernando, the crooked grin was clearly María’s, as were the red curls that only Cass had inherited… but the moment they opened their mouths and tried their hardest to strike a conversation: nothing. A blank page, waiting to be filled.

They had shared so many moments, spent so many years in the same home. But they were strangers.

That’s why Andro and her hadn’t moved to the student’s residence hall, and were still living at the family house. Because Hérc had to be in high school for a couple of years more and they couldn’t really do that to him, leave him alone with the ghosts that once had been their loving parents.

Substance abuse did that to you.

She didn’t have class until after lunch, so she went to the library, carrying a pink backpack in one shoulder, filled to the brim with painting tools, with notebooks that she used both for drawing and taking notes, and a pencil case. She didn’t really use her laptop, preferring to do things the traditional way. And… also, she was very scatterbrained. Cass was certain that if she had brought a computer, she would end up the class watching the weirdest YouTube videos about urban legends and random fun facts she had no one to tell them to.

But… that wasn’t completely right, was it?

Cass had always been a loner. For the entirety of high school, and starting university hadn’t really changed that fact. It was not like she didn’t have any friends. She did, just very few of them, and ones she had a pretty impersonal relationship with. Her only real connections in this world were Hércules, Andro and their friend Airi, or so it had been up until a few months ago, when she had met Alex.

Curious circumstances, that which had brought them together. A group of students from the Communications major had appeared a random day in Cass’ drawing class, asking if someone could help them with a quick issue. They were doing a video on the university, and needed a person who could do an illustration for the cover. Something that would draw attention, something that would make people immediately click on it, but that was true to the spirit of the institution.

Luck had it, Cass had just had a bad experience with one of her teachers, because he had criticized one of her drawings for being too shocking, too attention grabbing, and had asked her to stay in line because the dean doesn’t approve of this sort of things…

By the end of that day, those Communications students had a digital drawing sent to their emails, greatly inspired by 1984, George Orwell’s book: a picture of the university dean in a huge TV, sporting a mustache not unlike Hitler’s, and dozens of students dressed in prison uniforms, crying and begging and throwing money in the air, all because they wanted a piece of paper in which the word ‘Degree’ could be read.

Of course, they hadn’t chosen it. But Alex and her had become friends ever since.

Cass wouldn’t say it out loud, but she liked him. She liked him very, very much. But he was not into her – that much was painfully obvious. They had even slept together a few times, after parties that had gotten out of control… but just slept. They had both woken up in each other arms, their bodies still covered with the same number of clothes they had the night before. There had been some moments something deep inside of Cass had screamed yes, yes, yes, now is the time, first kiss… but no. Nothing.

It was fine, however. Having him as a friend was better than not having him in her life at all.

And it was not like she was going to confess out loud and ruin the whole thing.

And yet… the idea of it was always lingering, floating around her, especially when she saw him. Like now, in the library, with his headphones on, hunched over a computer, working on some project whose deadline was approaching at vertiginous speed, probably.

Cass approached him from behind. She thought about scaring him, but if she did, she would undoubtedly get scolded by the librarian or any of the many students around. So she contented herself with lightly tapping his shoulder, giving him a kiss in the cheek before plummeting to the chair next to him, leaving her backpack on the table.

‘Guess who has to go pick up her little brother after class?’ Cass pointed to herself, rolling her eyes. ‘Andro can’t. Probably sleeping with some substitute teacher, or something.’ She chuckled, moving her body so that it was closer to his, placing her chin on his shoulder to get a view of his laptop’s screen.

‘What are you doing?’

Her fingers, covered in dry paint, were now playing with his blond curls. Anyone who saw them would have thought they were a couple… better, Cass thought to herself, because she knew the moment Alex found a girlfriend would be a very, very, very sad day for her.

Cass wasn’t stupid. He was incredibly handsome. He was kind, generous, caring, intelligent, had a tragic backstory, a beautiful singing voice and played almost any instrument. He was about to be done with university, too. All of these things made him the perfect boy, and a lot of other girls seemed to think so, too.

She had heard them whisper around the corridors. In parties, they always tried to approach him. Why, exactly, he preferred spending time with her than with them, Cass didn’t quite know, but she was thankful for it.

‘Did you listen to Vessel’s show yesterday?’

Vessel was the host of a radio show in the university radio. He ran the night slot, where he talked about random stuff, played some weird and cryptic music. Cass had kind of started listening to it as a joke, but now, she didn’t miss a day. She hate-listened to it, because she disagreed with most of the young man’s opinions about music. How dared he play Katatonia at three in the morning, when she was studying for exams, instead of something a little bit more cheerful, a little bit more… alive!?

‘I called again. He probably hates me by now.’ Cass showed her shark-like grin, full of teeth, cheeky, and slightly lopsided. ‘I just wish I knew who he was! He does have a nice voice. I would love to share a coffee with him.’

Cass shrugged. She had told this to Airi and Andro earlier that morning, and both had agreed that next time she called she needed to ask him on a date.

‘But Alex…’

‘This has been going on for months! Are you going to confess?’

‘And ruin our friendship? Nuh uh. Plus, I’ve told you this, I don’t think he likes me…’

‘I mean, you have a point. If he did, he would have tried something with you already. All the more reason to ask this Vessel guy out.’

Maybe she actually would. Why not? She didn’t think she would like him as much as she liked Alex, but well… perhaps she could try, see if something came out of it.

@j-ofspades

[cassiopeiagarcia]

OLIVIA COOKE via miista on Instagram Stories, September 16th 2023

[cassiopeiagarcia]

She had opened her eyes after the meteorite impact a couple of days before meeting Alex… for the first time?

Seeing her brother and sister by the bed, Cass hadn’t thought anything at all. Just normal day, like any other, in which they had all stayed at Andro’s place (Hércules had roommates and Cass lived in a small studio apartment) and the middle García sibling had been the last to wake up.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

But, if that was the case, why were they crying?

They had explained. The day they had all met for coffee, a meteorite had struck Shibuya. Hundreds had died. But not them. However, while Andro and Hérc had been more or less okay, except for a few ugly bruises, three days in a comatose state and their heart stopping for a minute, Cass had all that plus a very disgusting-looking wound in her abdomen (something – she didn’t want to ask what but sharp and pointy – had ripped her skin undoubtedly leaving a nasty scar) a broken, purple, bloated lip (hey, at least I now don’t need plastic surgery! had been her way of making her parents feel better about it) and what most likely would end up being an addiction to morphine; the first days, they had her high most of the time. She didn’t quite know what they were giving her or why, but apparently she had required a few minor surgeries and…

It was during one of those days, that she had sneaked out of her hospital room. Cass had heard something outside: a conversation between her mother, María, and the doctor. They needed to perform a few blood tests, to check the levels of blahblahblah because it could be an indication of God knew what. And no. She refused. They had finally stopped giving her the medication intravenously, which meant: time for her escape plan.

Grabbing her mother’s fancy coat and hat, she had ran away of her room. She hadn’t thought much about it; she only knew that, for whatever reason, she wanted a pizza, sick to the core of hospital food, and to try and find a Halloween store, to check out some masks. The masks were really important, and apparently she had been telling absolutely everyone everything about them. In particular, she wanted a mask with six eyes, with a red sigil, with beautiful and intricate decorations of the same color. A mask that meant something, that symbolized some deity, but none of any religions she could think of.

Barefoot, she wandered around the hospital, tipping her hat to whoever she came across, like someone from the medieval ages. Sir, Ma’am. Cass was about to make a turn in some corridor when she came face to face with her doctor, a man in his 50s that went by the name of… actually, she didn’t remember. So she did what anybody else would.

She entered the patient’s room closer to her, pretending to be some visiting family member.

‘Hello, dear! How are you? Are you feeling better?’ She cheerfully and loudly asked the person laying down in the hospital bed, closing the door behind her quickly. ‘Ufff, that was close. So sorry to bother you but they want to take my blood and I think it belongs in my body!’

The person in question was a man, one who had the top half of his face, except for his eyes, covered in bandages. She could see nothing but his mouth, jaw and neck, but Cass found herself staring. There was something about him… ‘You are so handsome. Well, so handsome. Like don’t get me wrong, you probably are, I just can’t see you! But you feel so handsome. I just… woah. My name’s Cass. I was attacked by a meteorite. Not like personally. I just…’

‘Alex.’ He said, apparently not bothered at all by the fact that she wasn’t making any sense at all. He even was smiling in her direction and his voice sounded… relieved, maybe? Anyway, heavy with emotion. Alex, Alex, Alex.

Cass was about to say something else when the door opened again. She was expecting a nurse, maybe. She could deal with that, use her charms to drive them away. But nothing could have prepared her for coming face to face with Andro, whose arms were crossed above her chest and whose eyes were mostly white. She was rolling them towards the ceiling, as she took a deep breath.

‘Cass! You were supposed to get your medical tests done and…’

‘No, Androoooooooo. Andro, please, I don’t want to. I’m so tired, look at all the bruises in my arm from them poking me with needles. Like plim, plim, plim. No, pleeeeeeaaaaaase.’

‘Cass.’

Her sister’s tone admitted no reply. Cass sighed, finding herself absolutely defeated.

‘But I made a new friend?’ The tone was slightly interrogative, because they had after all exchanged literally a thousand words on Cass’ part and one on his, but one look at Alex and the blonde woman knew. They were friends. Or would be friends.

‘I’m so sorry she bothered you.’ Andro began. Her older sister was not speaking to Cass anymore, but to Alex, who had propped himself up on his elbows and shook his head.

‘She didn’t bother. At all.’

Again, that warmth. That feeling of acceptance, of belonging. Maybe she was still high, no, certainly, she was. But Cass had never felt this before, and she would fight for it. By pouting and pleading. ‘Please, I don’t want to go!?’

‘Cassiopeia, por favor…’

Uh oh. Andro using her full name meant trouble. With a defeated sigh, after a battle she would later remember as fierce and fiery, she waved Alex goodbye and blew him a kiss, before her sister took her back to her room, where an evil person would steal her precious blood.

───⋆☆─────────────

‘I know it’s unorthodox, a man and a woman sharing the same room, but she absolutely refuses to agree to any medical procedure unless she can be with you...’

The doctor was explaining as Cass walked in, carrying a couple of stuffed animals in her arms, running excitedly towards Alex with the brightest smile, one that made her whole face shine.

‘Hi! I convinced them to let us share a room if you wanted to. I guess you agreed because if not I wouldn’t be here. Cool, huh!?’ She exclaimed, standing beside his bed, smiling even more although it didn’t seem possible when she saw that he was happy about it, too.

She didn’t take as much pills now, her mind a lot less foggy, and would have apologize for her erratic behavior from last time, but when she tried to do it, he immediately cut her. There was nothing to apologize about.

That night, none of them got much sleep.

She sat at the foot of his bed, with her chin placed on top of her knees, her legs against her chest, her arms around them. Cass laughed more than she had in her entire lifetime as they shared anecdotes from their lives. Funny and happy ones, before switching to sadder ones, because they wanted to tell the other person absolutely everything. No secrets, not now, not ever. One in particular was harder than others, because it had marked a before and an after in Alex’s life: his parents falling into a coma after a car accident.

Cass had simply extended an arm, grabbed his hand. Held it hard as he told the story. And then, brought it to her lips, softly kissing his fingertips, sweetly.

His expression told her that she had done something right, something that had evoked deep feelings in him.

She had refused to go back to her cot. She hadn’t wanted to, and Alex didn’t seem like he wanted to let go of her, either. So she had simply laid beside him, until Sleep had taken both of them with Her to her realm, softly caressing his jaw, his neck.

Even if the doctor had scolded her the following morning, it had absolutely been worth it.

And she had kept doing it, night after night after night.

They could talk for hours, or stay in comfortable silence. Cass would paint him. Alex would sing to her. They would watch shitty movies on the TV in their room and she would let the doctors perform each and every test they wanted on her, as long as he was holding her hand.

When they had taken the bandages off of his face, she had been there, next to him, knowing that whatever he looked like wouldn’t change how she felt about him. Because Cass was in love, completely and absolutely, with every single part of Alex.

‘So, I was right the first night, you are devilishly handsome.’ She had declared, after he had stood still for a minute or two to let her examine his features, before finally closing the distance between them and kissing him.

───⋆☆─────────────

Cass was discharged before Alex. Weeks before.

But there was not a day she didn’t come visit after work, bringing food from the outside; bags full of takeaway, little snacks, things that he had mentioned he liked or things that she had commented about and wanted to share with him.

Between colorful wrappings of cookies and chocolate bars, more stolen kisses. Shy, at the beginning. Passionate, as time passed.

New lovers were supposed to be clumsy, but their bodies knew each other perfectly – from a previous life, maybe, their lips moving in perfect sync.

The doctors and nurses still got mad at her and her mischief; but they also just left them alone more times than not by that point, maybe slightly moved because out of the horrible natural disaster that had been the meteorite crashing in Japan, something as beautiful as their love story had been born.

It didn’t surprise anyone, when they made it official. When they started looking for a place for both of them, after merely months of dating. They were moving fast, yes, but why wait when they were made for each other?

This was Eden. Paradise. Mutual respect, acceptance and love. A sacred connection, and they were just pawns following one mandate: to be together.

In this universe. And all of them.

@j-ofspades

[cassiopeiagarcia]

[from @cassiopeiagarcia]

I took the liberty of making the bingo meme that's been going around for you...

This is accurate. Nothing else to add.

��V ⭕️

[cassiopeiagarcia]

It's a mixture of both!

But you doooooooo make me laugh. Especially when you get all cranky because I call you Chichi...

You do tend to laugh a lot when I am near but I feel like it is directed towards me, not with me.

— Chishiya

[cassiopeiagarcia]

Just one small problem.

Where's the "Doesn't like Soma" box and why can't I tick it!?

send some my way