Shiro frowns. There might be something familiar about those designations, but he's not familiar with tarot. No, it's something else that's arrested his attention. " 'Were'? You are fewer now. How many have you lost?"
"Hierophant and I were great friends," the Emperor says. "Temperance too was a friend, to perhaps a lesser degree. And Star... she was like a daughter to me."
Shiro inhales sharply and glances back toward the photograph with Hakkan and his wife - obviously his wife - and the young girl. Stepping over to it again, he studies it more closely, recognizing it as a memorial. "...This is her, isn't it. Star. What was her name?" he asks softly, a heavy empathy weighing down his voice and shoulders.
"Hoshiko," says a melodious voice from behind Shiro. When he turns he will see the same regal woman from the photograph - the Empress - sitting in all her regal pink finery on the stool, taking the mug which does not feature the cartoon ram and holding its warmth in her hands. "That's the name she chose herself, this round. It means 'star child' in your native tongue, does it not, Shirogane-san?"
"My dear," the Emperor says and suddenly there's a third, pinker mug in his hands, one with the words LIMINAL SPACE'S BEST EMPRESS written on it in elegant cursive. He holds it out to her, as if desiring an exchange.
She smiles fondly at her husband, her delicate fingers unlacing from his mug so that it can be returned. "Thank you, husband," she replies, grasping the new mug and letting her hands linger upon his for just a moment longer. Then her ruby red lips take a delicate sip of its contents.
Shiro whirls, prosthetic humming brilliantly, adrenaline making his heart pound in his ears. He more than half expects to see Haggar's glowing eyes in the woman's face and hear her rough laughter. A phantom ache twinges across his side.
But the next second he recognizes her from the picture and forces himself to lower and deactivate his arm, breathing hard. Cold sweat has broken out over his brow. Swallowing heavily, he shakes his head, trying to get his focus back.
"Sorry... Empress. What did you say?" His heart is still beating so hard and so fast. He's going to have to try and hear past the rush of blood in his ears. And hope that he doesn't injure their mantlepiece by gripping it so tightly.
The room suddenly seems to grow warmer, and along with the floral scent of the Empress that seems to accompany her everywhere, a few other smells pop up - scents that Shiro would find soothing, comforting. "Be at peace, my lord Takashi. You are safe here; I mean you no harm."
She slowly places her newly-acquired mug on the desk, where her husband's mug used to be, making sure to create a cute doily coaster before she places it down. Then Empress grasps the one with the cartoon ram, standing from the stool and gracefully offering it to Shiro. "Hoshiko was her name this cycle," she repeats, glancing at the picture over his shoulder with a sad smile. Her eyes grow a little moist with memory. "We both miss her... very much."
He can feel himself relaxing, and that in and of itself is unnerving. But she is being truthful - he can tell that much. "I believe you, ma'am, but if you could please... stop doing whatever magic pheremone thing you are doing, I would appreciate that," he says hoarsely.
Still, presented with the mug it would be rude to refuse and it is easier to focus on the warmth and the shape of it in his hands, the rich scent of coffee rising from it. Geeze. Coffee. He hasn't had that in years. Not since the Garrison.
"I'm sorry. About Miss Hoshiko," he says finally when he is able to look at the two of them again. "Do you have other children?" He glances at the other photos.
Her hands pause in front of her as she begins to pull them away - and then they fold over each other, resting politely in front of her. "I apologize, I... did not mean to disturb you. I only wished to help calm you, my lord." Slowly, the scents fade, all except the citrus and flowers. The room returns to its temperature. She bows her head to him, the delicate tassels on her headdress jingling together with the motion.
"We love all Travelers as our children, including you," she answers with her head still bowed.
"Sorry," he murmurs, sounding half as tired as he feels. "I was a prisoner for a year, so I tend to. React poorly to people trying to control me. I know you were trying to help, and I appreciate that. It just brings up some bad memories."
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Shiro frowns. There might be something familiar about those designations, but he's not familiar with tarot. No, it's something else that's arrested his attention. " 'Were'? You are fewer now. How many have you lost?"
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But the next second he recognizes her from the picture and forces himself to lower and deactivate his arm, breathing hard. Cold sweat has broken out over his brow. Swallowing heavily, he shakes his head, trying to get his focus back.
"Sorry... Empress. What did you say?" His heart is still beating so hard and so fast. He's going to have to try and hear past the rush of blood in his ears. And hope that he doesn't injure their mantlepiece by gripping it so tightly.
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She slowly places her newly-acquired mug on the desk, where her husband's mug used to be, making sure to create a cute doily coaster before she places it down. Then Empress grasps the one with the cartoon ram, standing from the stool and gracefully offering it to Shiro. "Hoshiko was her name this cycle," she repeats, glancing at the picture over his shoulder with a sad smile. Her eyes grow a little moist with memory. "We both miss her... very much."
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Still, presented with the mug it would be rude to refuse and it is easier to focus on the warmth and the shape of it in his hands, the rich scent of coffee rising from it. Geeze. Coffee. He hasn't had that in years. Not since the Garrison.
"I'm sorry. About Miss Hoshiko," he says finally when he is able to look at the two of them again. "Do you have other children?" He glances at the other photos.
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"We love all Travelers as our children, including you," she answers with her head still bowed.
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