Chapter Text
Garreg Mach Monastery looked like the sky crashed down on it in the mornings. Billows of frigid mist swirled into every courtyard, over every field, and through every alleyway of the place, turning the hallowed grounds of the age-old monastery into a murky labyrinth. Some might have thought the morning atmosphere suited a place so well-associated with the heavens, but the reality was that it made making one’s way to early classes an absolute pain. For those who got themselves up even earlier, walking through the morning fog was tantamount to navigating the monastery in a blindfold.
Lysithea regularly cursed her luck for being an early riser, but her fear of the dark never allowed her to stay up or sleep in as long as she might have liked. This morning was no different; she had finally met someone just as prickly as she was.
“You and me live in different worlds. There's no point lowering yourself down into mine.”
She had only tried to help the boy, but all she got in return was a splinter in her finger and an earful of harsh words. Picking the painful shard of wood out with her fingernails, Lysithea smoothed over the tiny wound with the flat of her thumb and grumbled as she trudged herself off back to her dorm room. She needed to collect her things from her room and get to class.
Just who was Cyril to tell her what world she lived in? The very nerve of that little squirt! He didn’t even thank her for trying to help! What a waste of her free time.
The girl sighed and shook her hand out, as if the act of shaking would dull the pain or soothe her flaring temper. If she could not get her anger under control soon, her head would start to throb and then there would be no turning back.
“Sure, we live in the same places now, but that's not gonna last forever. Don't see how it could, unless I actually turned into your little brother or something.”
The young student scoffed at the idea. Cooling down was the best thing for it.
Cyril? Her little brother? How stupid! Lysithea had a brother once, but she was sure he would have turned out far nicer than Rhea’s little pet. He didn’t know what she had been through! He might have been better at handiwork than she was, but there wasn’t any way he had suffered through as much as she had...
Lysithea paused and scrunched up her nose. She had gone from hot to cold in an instant. There would be no migraine this morning, but guilt was similarly unpleasant.
That was unkind. She didn’t know what Cyril had been through or how he had ended up at Garreg Mach. All she knew was that he was supposedly an Almyran war orphan that Rhea had taken in, and that he had chosen to be the monastery’s glorified errand boy. And people probably treated him horribly. Lysithea could hide her two Crests and pretend that her hair had always been white, but Cyril? His dark skin, black hair, and orange eyes were as Almyran as they came. It was downright stupid that people put such emphasis on things as insignificant as Crests or physical appearance.
A heavy lump formed in her throat, and she gulped it back uncomfortably. She wanted to cry.
She and Cyril were the youngest people at the monastery, but they were probably also the most vulnerable. Each had something about themselves that they couldn’t escape. In spite of all of that, though... they were probably the hardest workers at Garreg Mach as well! Lysithea liked the sound of that.
Drying her eyes on her sleeve, the young student took a deep breath and started walking back to her dorm room again. This time, she did it with a smile creeping up her face.
Maybe she and Cyril didn’t live in such different worlds after all. Maybe she could be there for him… like an older sister or something. He was the one to suggest it!
By the time Lysithea had made it to the Fishing Pond, her temper had died down considerably and it was evident that she had avoided a potential crisis. Working through things by herself typically put her in a better mood, and a better mood meant a lower blood pressure. Being able to successfully cope made Lysithea feel self-sufficient and mature… which quickly gave way to a blissful sense of anticipation once she saw the sumptuous cake Claude was carting out of the back door of the Dining Hall.
That’s right! Leonie’s birthday! Hopefully she’d share a slice of that delicious cake with the rest of the class. What flavour was it? She hoped it would be vanilla. Would Claude - being the idiot that he is - try to get the Professor to slice it with the Sword of the Creator? He probably would. And would Cyril be joining them for class today? If he was, she resolved to be nicer to him… even if he was a bit prickly. After all, she was too.