It doesn't quite make her laugh, but the corner of her lips turn up at Palamedes' huff. The expression transforms into something a little more wistful at his bitterness, not because it makes her sad to see -- although it does -- but because she shares it. More, probably, than Palamedes could know. Camilla had always been more devoted in cavalierdom to Palamedes and, if pressed for something larger, the Sixth House and the cause of truth and knowledge, than she ever had been to serving either the Emperor or God. But He existed in the background, the arbiter of necromancy, the giver of the gifts she saw used every day. After Canaan House, and the trials, after eight months with Blood of Eden -- even after the torture they'd inflicted out of fear and bias -- she's beginning to feel things crack around the edges. A resentment, even, a simmering anger she rarely lets show for how much of her life has been spent not knowing. And yet none of it matters here in Darrow.
But maybe it gets to. Palamedes caring means -- well, at very least it means she has her closest confidante to talk to.
She winces a little at imagining that last conversation between him and -- Cytherea. Cytherea. She's hammered the name into her head over and over to stamp out everything of Dulcinea she'd attached to her, the words of her saved letters, all the resentment she'd held against her and Gideon for those early days in Canaan, stubbornly working at the Gordian knot of feelings for her dear friend and the woman she thought was her. It's impossible, but she's managed to at least dull her feelings for Dulcie behind the wall of rage she can't help but still feel for the Lyctor who killed the people she loved most and so many others she had grown to care for.
"Like she was accessory to it," she elaborates. She'd had so much time, in those weeks without speaking, to contemplate the wool taken off her eyes. The worth of a cavalier. All that they -- that Palamedes -- had refused to engage with -- but in the end, wasn't it the justification for that entire social structure? While at the same time grieving, berating herself for losing him: yes, she thinks she can imagine how the Lyctor felt. That roiling anger at Cytherea almost touches pity for a moment, understanding, with all that Palamedes is saying and all that she's seen and learned. There's something so terrible and unwanted and world-shifting in that momentary compassion; it's nauseating. "There was a moment," she says, distantly. "I would have had her if she'd been anything but a Lyctor, but she had -- an entropy field up, I guess, I couldn't get my knife through her skin." She skips neatly over the part where she'd been letting her hand flay to try and run down her thanergy. "She said, I had a nice girl as a cavalier once too. She died for me. What can you do?. At the time, I was angry, and fighting, and she was too near to killing us all. And maybe it was just a taunt. But I think she might have meant what more could I do to her after that."
Cam shakes her head, as if it'll rid her of the memory, of that and so much more. Her eyes go back into focus when Palamedes says the equation's a mess, and she searches his eyes for a moment. "I have," she says slowly. She's been focused on Gideon being the child of God, some of its implications, but now other details fit themselves together like a stack of blocks, all at once. She lifts her chin at the papers he's been scribbling on. "You think she was right. They were right, the ones -- trying to get into the Ninth. That there's more, some exchange, and it was kept secret."
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But maybe it gets to. Palamedes caring means -- well, at very least it means she has her closest confidante to talk to.
She winces a little at imagining that last conversation between him and -- Cytherea. Cytherea. She's hammered the name into her head over and over to stamp out everything of Dulcinea she'd attached to her, the words of her saved letters, all the resentment she'd held against her and Gideon for those early days in Canaan, stubbornly working at the Gordian knot of feelings for her dear friend and the woman she thought was her. It's impossible, but she's managed to at least dull her feelings for Dulcie behind the wall of rage she can't help but still feel for the Lyctor who killed the people she loved most and so many others she had grown to care for.
"Like she was accessory to it," she elaborates. She'd had so much time, in those weeks without speaking, to contemplate the wool taken off her eyes. The worth of a cavalier. All that they -- that Palamedes -- had refused to engage with -- but in the end, wasn't it the justification for that entire social structure? While at the same time grieving, berating herself for losing him: yes, she thinks she can imagine how the Lyctor felt. That roiling anger at Cytherea almost touches pity for a moment, understanding, with all that Palamedes is saying and all that she's seen and learned. There's something so terrible and unwanted and world-shifting in that momentary compassion; it's nauseating. "There was a moment," she says, distantly. "I would have had her if she'd been anything but a Lyctor, but she had -- an entropy field up, I guess, I couldn't get my knife through her skin." She skips neatly over the part where she'd been letting her hand flay to try and run down her thanergy. "She said, I had a nice girl as a cavalier once too. She died for me. What can you do?. At the time, I was angry, and fighting, and she was too near to killing us all. And maybe it was just a taunt. But I think she might have meant what more could I do to her after that."
Cam shakes her head, as if it'll rid her of the memory, of that and so much more. Her eyes go back into focus when Palamedes says the equation's a mess, and she searches his eyes for a moment. "I have," she says slowly. She's been focused on Gideon being the child of God, some of its implications, but now other details fit themselves together like a stack of blocks, all at once. She lifts her chin at the papers he's been scribbling on. "You think she was right. They were right, the ones -- trying to get into the Ninth. That there's more, some exchange, and it was kept secret."