After the Fall of Efrain
With the Prince of Sorrow's Song dead and gone, the opera dissipates, spitting its victims out on the summit of Crane's Ridge where the Dance of Celestine was held some months before. It's getting late, and there is no one yet in town to run the train. Some will brave the trip home simply for the sake of collapsing into their own beds and achieving some sense of normalcy. Others will do so with the hope of returning with help. But many others will simply say "fuck it" and camp out on the mountain, still fitted with extra firewood from the festival and the means to build temporary structures in nearby storage sheds. The journey down will be safer in the morning, and there's solidarity to be had in a cool spring night spent under the stars.
Oh, look, there's even some non-perishable food and wine from the Dance. Combined with what can be hunted or foraged, as well as snacks and drinks stolen from the concession stand, there's plenty to go around. This might even be a little bit fun! Anyone up for another game of Never Have I Ever? Maybe a little Truth or Dare? Or perhaps you just want to chat and unwind with your friends. Whatever the case may be, have fun. This is your time. After darkness, there is a dawn. At the death of Sorrow, there is joy.
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She wonders if it's the kind of detached, clinical calm that you earn through stubborn force.
"Situations are often more complicated than they seem." Everyone in the program thought she was sending information to the bad guys, by the end. Cassandra's situation is more of a reverse of her own, but still. Complicated. "...your turn?"
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Cassandra breathes out. "I'm sorry to ask this, but -- you were killed? Is that what happened?"
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CT exhales. "I was. That's the death that brought me here. We had no way to escape that bunker without a fight and there was— no universe where we won that fight. None."
The only way they were ever going to get out of that bunker alive was if Texas had seen the tags and sided with her, or she'd pulled off a miraculous persuasive argument. No version of that confrontation that ended in a fight ended well for them.
"That was the other performance it made me do. Except there were two soldiers, not just one. Texas killed me but Carolina didn't stop her."
Her eyes flick subconsciously across the ridge to Carolina, then back to the fire.
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Very quietly: "Is she going to be trouble?"
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"She— hasn't been so far," doesn't sound all that certain, but: "Everyone that's talked to her has come out believing her when she says she won't be. I'm trying not to worry about it too much."
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"I won't say no. The more people aware... well, at the very least, the more backlash if she crosses the line."