[/html]Her tail twitched with a restless agitation while she listened to Myrika's story, but her body relaxed and she slowly exhaled a breath she didn't remember taking. Cassandra was not accustomed to needing to or wanting to comfort others. In their youth, she had done little to help ease her sister's preoccupation with her appearance, so caught up she had been in her own. And sickly and weak as she'd been, she had always had the attentions and comfort of her small family. She had not minded so much, but she had never been very in tune with the feelings of others as a result.
But now she slid her arm around Myrika, ignoring the slight protests of her shoulder. "She was an idiot, Tyveni," Cassandra said, her voice with some lingering sharpness. "Didn't know what she was losing." The albino was relieved though, that her sister's woes seemed faraway for the most part, and that the conversation had drifted away from herself. "Vesper's not the same sort of fool, is she?"
Closeness and betrayal came hand in hand; it was as true for romance as it was for all else. And yet, Cassandra could not look on her sister's feelings with contempt. Perhaps it was because she had, her whole childhood, watched her father suffer from the absence of his mate, and she believed as much as she believed anything that he would love mysterious Rachias until the day he died. She would not think of her own experiences; those feelings were buried deep, and she did not count. Those with goodness still left in them -- her father, her sister -- they would find their place to belong.
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