Cha0s Gaming - Lyra Eos

EasyThreads added Solidus to the group. 12/25/2025 12:13 AM

Three and a half weeks in Lyra Eos did not pass quickly for Laika and Dante, but they did pass steadily. Laika’s days Each morning began on the balcony with Seliane. First it was simple grounding: naming what parts of her body felt like they still belonged to her, breathing just enough to loosen her chest, practicing, over and over, “These are my hands. This is my choice.” Over time the list grew. From hands to ears. From ears to her voice. Eventually to the way her tail moved when she was happy and she hadn’t noticed. She learned: How to notice when she was bracing for punishment and say it out loud instead of swallowing it. How to separate memory from present—Seliane would have her describe what she actually saw, heard, and felt right now whenever nightmares bled into waking. That “wild” did not mean “broken”; the part of her who ran through fields and chased grasshoppers was not the same part that had been used. One was instinct, the other was harm. Seliane gave her small “trials,” never grand rituals: Spending an entire afternoon in the public gardens with no Dante at her side, simply existing among the swan-kin without shrinking away. Sitting with Lyra Eos children by the canals, letting them braid her fur and ask her questions, practicing being seen without feeling like an object. Writing three letters: one to her parents, one to Makana, one to herself-a-year-ago. None were sent without her consent, but the act of writing them forced her to name what she’d survived and what she wanted now. When her heat came, it did not pass unnoticed. Seliane and a healer helped her plan for it in advance rather than hiding in shame: extra grounding exercises, clear rules she herself set about touch, a quiet guest-cell near the baths where she could retreat without feeling “banished.” The trial there was simple and brutal: could she honor her own boundaries when her body pulled hardest? She did. Imperfectly, shakily, but she did. Dante’s days Dante wen

12:14 AM

t to the lake almost every morning with Neris. He learned quickly that the priest’s questions were never rhetorical and never as complicated as they sounded. First came wants: one small want each day that benefitted no one else—books, time alone, a particular food, an hour without talking. actually asking for it, instead of waiting to see if he “deserved” it. Then came sorries: quiet practice at the water’s edge, naming small things he regretted and speaking, “I am sorry for…” without excuses. later, small living trials in the city: bumping a porter’s shoulder and, instead of snarling, stopping to say “I’m sorry” and mean it—then noticing that the world did not end. Neris set him tasks that looked nothing like therapy: a day spent helping elders load and unload boats, forbidden from making jokes as shields; he had to ask what they needed instead of guessing and resenting. a day in the markets where his only job was to listen—no advice, no bravado—while a stall-holder complained about a broken home. writing the names of three people he’d hurt on a strip of parchment (kept private), then describing—not just what he did—but what kind of man he would rather have been in those moments. He read, too. The promised book arrived, then another. Neris’ only instruction: “Mark the moments you admire the hero and the moments you disagree with him.” Dante discovered, uneasily, that sometimes he sided with the flawed choices. Sometimes he didn’t. That tension became their next line of work.

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Together They were not kept apart, only structured. Each evening they had a window of time together under watchful but distant eyes—usually on a quieter terrace or by a small canal. Trials as a pair were subtle: At least two hours each day where they were forbidden to seek each other out, no matter how bad the day had been. They had to learn to ground themselves first before reaching for the other. Shared tasks that invited friction: carrying messages through the winding tiers of the city, helping in the kitchens during a busy festival day, assisting with lantern-lighting at dusk. Any miscommunication became material for the next morning’s sessions. Once a week, a joint conversation with Seliane and Neris both present, where they had to speak about each other while the other listened in silence, no interruptions, no explanations. Afterwards, they were allowed to respond—but only by naming what they’d heard correctly, not defending themselves. They were taught the outline of the Swan-Bond, but not offered it: that it demanded two whole selves, that martyrdom and self-erasure were disqualifying, that one could not make the other their sole reason for breathing and still be considered fit to bind. Laika learned to answer questions about her future that did not start with Dante’s name. Dante learned to say, sometimes haltingly, that he wanted to be better for himself as well as for her, even if the words tasted wrong in his mouth. What remains After three and a half weeks, they have: Stabilized enough that the constant flinch has softened; punishment is no longer the first thing they expect. Begun to reclaim ownership of body (Laika) and voice (Dante). Proven they can spend time apart without collapsing or spinning into panic. Shown glimmers of wanting futures that are not purely reaction to their trauma. But they have not yet: Faced a full, formal mirror-rite together, where their bond itself is examined before the Assembly. Spoken honestly to each

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other about the worst things they’ve done and endured; so far, only edges have been named. Been tested under true stress—ill news from home, a serious disagreement, or a situation where what is best for one of them might not be best for the other. Ahead of them lie: A period the Assembly calls the Crossroads Days: several days where each will be quietly offered an opportunity that is good for them individually but may pull them away from the other—service with Lyra Eos, a return to Pua Hala for a season, or extended study. They will not be told what the other was offered. A joint session before a smaller circle of the Dawn Assembly, where they must each answer one brutal question: “If you are never permitted our bond-rite, what life do you choose instead?” And, only if they pass those trials with their selves intact, the possibility of entering formal bond-instruction—learning the rites, the oaths, and the long vigil that precedes a Swan-Bond. For now, they remain what they were named at the start: Guests of Lyra Eos. Two wounded souls who have taken a few true steps toward becoming people who could love without re-creating the cages they fled—and who still have a long, careful road ahead before any elder will bless the word “forever” on their lips.

2

*Currently Helping Gather water at one of the Mills for Cooking, There was a lot of Soup to be made along with the rest of their food items. And rather than being told to do this, She offered instead. And wearing her comfortable new clothes.*

*Down at the docks, he's found unloading the boats helps him clear his mind and just focus on a task, sure it's quiet, and monotonous, but that's the point, the only thing that needs his attention is being flung over his shoulder*

*Has Also been learning their Language and Sign Language. Making friends with a couple of the Deaf Children in the Village and Having them also help her with tasks about.*

12:39 AM

*Although it often makes her Miss Makana and wonder how she's been. After hearing about what happened with Hua and Araavos's Arrival at the Island. She can't help but worry sometimes.*

The late-afternoon sun sits high enough to throw silver bands across the harbor. On one of the quieter piers, Dante hefts a crate off a boat, slings it over his shoulder, and carries it up the planks to the waiting pallets. Another, another—no one barking orders at him, just the steady rhythm of work, wood, and water. Bootsteps tap lightly along the pier behind him. When he turns to take the next crate, someone else has already gripped the other end. [Mirror-Priest Neris] stands there, sleeves pushed back for once, helping guide the weight into Dante’s arms before letting go. “You keep stealing the dockhands’ jobs,” he remarks, tone dry rather than accusing. “If you keep this up, they’ll start charging us for your therapy.” He steps back out of the way while Dante moves the crate, then waits until it’s set down before coming to stand beside him at the edge of the pier, looking out over the water. [Mirror-Priest Neris] “You chose this work yourself,” he notes, “day after day. No one told you to. No one checks if you show up. Still, here you are—quiet, repetitive, heavy on the shoulders, light on the talking.” He gives the smallest nod, as if confirming something to himself. “It suits the man you’ve been these past weeks.” He falls silent long enough for a gull to cry overhead and a rope to creak against wood. Then he continues, voice lower: [Mirror-Priest Neris] “Which means we’ve reached a point where standing still here is no longer enough.” He shifts his weight, turning just enough to see Dante’s face in profile while still mostly watching the harbor. [Mirror-Priest Neris] “We talked about this, at the lake.” A reminder, not a test. “The time when Lyra stops being the place you heal and starts being the place you launch from. We call these the Crossroads Days.” One hand slips free of his sleeve; he holds it between them, palm up, fingers curling and uncurling as he speaks. [Mirror-Priest Neris] “I’m not here to tell you what to do with your life outside

12:48 AM

these walls. I’m here to lay three real doors in front of you. All of them lead away from Lyra’s halls. All of them are open. You do not have to choose today.”

12:49 AM

He raises one finger. [Mirror-Priest Neris] “First door: You go back to Pua Hala for a full season.” “You return to your kin with different eyes than the ones you left with. You work, you help, you sleep under a familiar sky. You find out whether the man you are becoming can stand in the place that made the old one without slipping backwards.” His gaze stays steady on the water. “We keep contact by couriers. Letters. A priest passing through now and then. But the days there are yours, under your people’s customs, not ours.” Second finger. [Mirror-Priest Neris] “Second door: You sign on as crew with a courier vessel.” “Not a Lyra barge that hugs the shoreline—one of the ships that runs the longer routes between tribes. You haul cargo, you keep watch, you follow ship’s law instead of temple rule. You see more than these docks and Pua Hala’s beaches. New ports, new faces who don’t know your past and won’t care as long as you pull your weight.” A brief, almost amused breath. “You already move like a dockhand. This would just stretch that out across the sea.” Third finger. [Mirror-Priest Neris] “Third door: You walk a harder road with us, but not in the safety of these terraces.” “You travel with one or two of my order as a walker’s aide—out to the villages and islands that never see the inside of this city. You help settle small disputes, carry messages, sit with people who are breaking and don’t have a name for why. No title. No fancy robe. Just work that demands you listen more than you talk, and stand your ground when others fall apart.” He doesn’t dress it up; his voice stays plain. “It is not a priesthood. Not yet, maybe not ever. But it is the closest thing we have to training for a man who has stared down his own wreckage and still gets up.” His hand closes, the three fingers folding back into his palm. He tucks it once more into his sleeve. [Mirror-Priest Neris] “None of these doors is a trick. None of them is ‘correct.’ They are simply lives. Each

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one asks something different of you. Each one takes you away from this dock and this quiet and tests whether the work you’ve done here survives real wind and real people.” He steps a half pace back, giving Dante back the edge of the pier and the full stretch of sea beyond it. [Mirror-Priest Neris] “For the next few days, keep doing what you do—carry crates, eat, sleep, snap at people less than you used to.” There’s the ghost of a smirk. “But watch which path your thoughts drift toward when no one is demanding anything from you.” He nods once, as if sealing the instructions. “When you’re ready—not rushed, not stalling—meet me here again. No lake, no Assembly. Just you, me, the water, and the door you’re willing to try first.” His silver eyes meet Dante’s one last time, steady but not heavy. [Mirror-Priest Neris] “And remember: this choice is about your life. Not what would make you look good. Not what you think would be easiest for anyone else. If you lie about that—even to yourself—you may still walk through a door… but it won’t be the house you meant to enter.” With that, he inclines his head in a brief, respectful motion and turns back along the pier, leaving Dante with the creak of timber, the weight of the next crate in his hands, and three routes quietly unfolding somewhere just beyond the line of the horizon.

*Taking a Small break. Panting since she Can't sweat. Has Also gained a little Muscle and a healthy weight. But Entertaining the Children around By letting them stroke her fur. Scratch behind her ears. Play with her tail without pulling it. All things she's set boundaries for and Allowed with her own voice. Not because she feels she has to let them. But because she enjoys it.*

The mill’s wheel turns in a slow, steady roar beside the canal, throwing mist into the air. Laika sits on an overturned crate in the shade, chest rising and falling with light pants—fur ruffled, sleeves rolled up on her newer, well-worn clothes. A few full water jugs rest by her feet, proof of the work already done. Around her, three children cluster close: one girl signing excitedly with quick, clever hands, a boy carefully stroking the fur along Laika’s forearm, another gently scratching behind one ear. Her tail sways lazily, offered but guarded; every touch is within lines she herself drew. “Not the tail,” she reminds one with a small smile, tapping her own wrist and signing the same boundary back to them. “Soft, no pulling.” They adjust, and she lets them stay. Footsteps approach over the stone. The signing girl notices first, her hands pausing mid-story as she looks past Laika’s shoulder. Laika follows her gaze. [Mirror-Priestess Seliane] stands a few paces away, feathers slightly damp from the mill’s mist, robes hitched up just enough to keep them clear of the splashed stone. She takes in the scene—the jugs, the children, the relaxed but deliberate way Laika manages their touch—and a small, proud warmth touches her eyes. “Busy, as usual,” she says lightly. “And this time because you volunteered, not because anyone put a chore in your hands.” She shifts her attention to the children, signing with an easy fluency: THANK-YOU FOR-HELPING HER WORK. I-NEED-TO-BORROW-LAIKA A-LITTLE-WHILE. There are a few pouts, but they relent, giving Laika quick squeezes and ear-scritches within the agreed bounds before scampering back toward the mill workers. When they’re gone, Seliane steps closer and leans against the low wall beside Laika, close but not crowding. [Mirror-Priestess Seliane] “You’ve gained strength,” she observes, “and not only in your arms.” A brief nod toward where the children stood. “You tell little hands where they may touch and where they may not,

1:01 AM

and you don’t apologize for it. That was not true three weeks ago.” She lets that sit like a small gift before continuing, voice lowering a shade: “We have reached your own Crossroads Days, Laika. The time when Lyra stops being only a place you heal in, and starts asking what kind of life you will walk into when you step away from our halls—for a season, or for longer.” She turns slightly, so they’re more side by side than face-to-face. “I am not here to tell you which road to take. I am here to set three doors in front of you. All of them are real. You do not choose today.” She lifts one hand, fingers opening slowly as she names each path.

1:01 AM

[Mirror-Priestess Seliane] “First door: A full season back with the Pua Hala Kai.” “You return to your own people. You live as a mother among them again—wake to your daughter’s voice, work in their kitchens, stand on their beaches with the eyes you have now, not the ones you left with.” Her gaze softens briefly at the mention of Makana. “You would practice these boundaries and this new kindness of yours in the place that still tugs at your heart the loudest. We would keep in touch—letters, perhaps a Lyra courier now and then—but your days would belong to your family and your tribe’s ways.” Second finger unfolds. [Mirror-Priestess Seliane] “Second door: You travel as a helper between tribes.” “We have need of people who can listen like you do—and who can speak, and sign, across differences. You would go with small caravans and vessels that carry news and goods between islands, helping with children, with the sick, with those who do not speak well or cannot hear.” There’s a glimmer of wry humor in her eyes. “The deaf children here have taken to you. There are others, in other places, who have no one patient enough to learn their hands. You would see more than Lyra and Pua Hala. New skies. New streams. Work that is not always gentle, but very, very needed.” Third finger. [Mirror-Priestess Seliane] “Third door: You root yourself here—not in the Assembly’s guest rooms, but in Lyra’s lower tiers.” “You settle for a time among our people: perhaps in the children’s houses by the canals, perhaps helping in the mills and kitchens as you do now, perhaps assisting the healers with those whose bodies and hearts carry scars like yours.” She is careful not to gild it. “It would not be a comfortable life of sitting and thinking. It would be noise, and chores, and small hands tugging at you, and the daily practice of living your new boundaries among people who will quickly start seeing you as ‘Laika’ and not ‘the outsider.’ You would still meet with me at times—but you

1:01 AM

would no longer be here as a patient. You would be here as one of us who works.” Her hand closes, fingers folding back into her palm. She rests it lightly on the wall between them. [Mirror-Priestess Seliane] “None of these doors is a test of worth,” she says softly. “They are simply lives. Each asks a different thing from the woman you are becoming: mother-at-home, traveling helper, rooted worker.” She tilts her head, studying Laika’s face without drilling into it. “For the next few days, keep doing exactly what you’re doing. Carry water because you chose to. Let children pet your fur because you enjoy it and can say ‘stop’ when you need to. Sleep. Miss Makana. Notice where your thoughts walk when you’re not dragging them.” Her mouth curves in a small, encouraging smile. “Then, when you are ready—not rushed, not stalling—come find me. Not on the balcony this time. Here, near the mill or the children’s houses. Tell me which life you are willing to try first.” She straightens, smoothing her robe, but her voice stays gentle as she adds one last reminder: [Mirror-Priestess Seliane] “This choice is about you and the mother you want Makana to remember. Not about what you think would make our Assembly proud, or what seems easiest for anyone else. If you choose with that truth, any of these doors can become a good path.” With that, she inclines her head—a simple, respectful bow—and steps back, leaving Laika with the hum of the mill, the echo of children’s laughter down the canal, and three futures quietly forming like distant shapes beyond the spray.

*Watching her Leave. Her words Echoing in her mind as she Ponders the Choices she was Given. And Soon She Tells the Children and Workers she must go for awhile. And She'll return to help clean after Dinner before heading home*

*Closing the Curtain to her Sleeping Area as well as her window outside. And Undressing. Hanging up her clothing to wear for later. and Climbing in bed. Laying down on her back staring up at the Ceiling. Fully nude. Open. Exposed. She's gotten used to Wearing Clothing now but, Sometimes she still likes to Undress and be in a way she's most accustomed to. At least when she's sure nobody will be around to see. But as she lay there. She begins running her hands along her body a little. Feeling herself. Touching Different parts. but avoiding the Area between her legs purposefully. Saying each part in her mind as she does. Getting more comfortable in her own fur gradually. Reminding herself that her body is hers to decide what's done with it, by who, and when.*

*coming home from a long day at the docks, hangs his on a rack and goes to rinse off the day's labors*

*Hearing The Familiar Steps and the rustling outside she quickly sits up. Pulling her Blanket over herself* Dante? *She Asked. Just loud enough for him, or whoever was present, to hear*

Hey Laika...

*Sighs with relief as she hears his Voice. And Gets up to get dressed before Coming out of her room* Hey.. You've returned sooner than usual. Is everything alright? Normally You're out by the Lake for awhile after working the docks.

I've...... been given my paths today.

*her ears perk up.* Oh.. Heh.. So have i..

How long did they give you?

A few days...

2:29 AM

She wasn't specific about it but.. It sounds like it'll have to be soon.

Same....

Well.. *She Rubs her arm Awkwardly. Not entirely sure what to say* I... Wish you luck.. Whatever decision you make...

2:30 AM

And hope for all the best for you..

Same....

2:32 AM

I... kinda already made my decision, but, i'll probably keep it to myself for a few days, so I can spend them with you, if that's okay.

*Smiles a bit* I.. I've made mine too.. But.. I've also chosen to.. Keep it to myself until the time is right.. I'd like to spend the rest of the ones we have with you too.. *She said. Stepping closer. and Hugging him gently. burying her face in his neck fur*

I'll miss you... But i'll miss you later. For now... What do you say we go out for dinner? Maybe we get our friends to join us, let them know too.

*Pulls away. Nodding.* I am pretty Hungry..

Why don't you go fetch them while I clean up, you sort of caught me before my "Shower"

*Chuckles* Alright.. See you soon.. *She said. Hurrying out to go find them*

*At home deciding what he wants to wear for Dinner*

3:06 AM

Which one do you think? The one with or without the flower embroidery?

Whichever you decide will be lovely, Mal

Oh you flatterer.. you're one to talk you make everything Look Attractive~ *He said. Kissing his cheek. And Ultimately deciding on the flowers*

*Knocking on the Wall outside* Mal? Char?

Shall I get it?

Yes please

*answers the door* Laika!

*Smiles* Char! How are you doing? Is Mal here too?

*Poking his head around the corner after getting Dressed, and Squealing* Laika Hello Lovely!!~ Of course i'm here!

Ah.. Well.. Um.. Dante and I Are going out for Dinner.. He Suggested we invite you two.. If you're interested.

Well of course. If it's not too much

Not at all!

6:48 PM

Meet you there?

I'd say Mal is probably already combing his feathers

Yes!!!!!!!!

*chuckles softly* You'll understand when you're married, Laika. *He teases before going to get ready*

*Her face flushes at the comment. but she quickly shakes it off* See you soon then.. *She said. Before heading back home to Dante*

Dante?... Are you still here?

*was busy, trying to get his outfit just right.. the nice one... the one she liked with the blue, she thinks it suits him, and he wants to look his best, if only he could get this stupid piece of cloth to ...........stay.....put*

*Poking her head in through his Curtain a little, Hearing sounds of Struggle* Dante? You alright?

Almost done.. *stupid sash*

*Just smiles and giggles a little* I.. Could help you if you'd like?..

If you wouldn't mind.

Of course not.. If you wouldn't. *She said. Stepping in and Gently taking the Sash from him. and Starting to Adjust and Style it meticulously. a Focused look on her face*

thanks... *taking a step back once shes done* how do I look?

*Looking at him for a moment. a Small glimmer of Admiration in her eyes. Her tail wagging a bit* You look.. Very handsome.. Dashing.. Elegant.... Perfect..

thanks... so do you..

*Smiles warmly. And slowly turns to Leave*

*follows her out*

Soon They Meet up with Malakai and Charito

Hey you two. So.. Since this was Dante's idea.. He should pick where we go to eat.

I don't mind, so long as everyone is happy with it

Mhm!

I'd rather our expert friends here decide. But if it helps. We've been given our paths and wanna make it special since we only have a few days here before we must choose one.

Mal, would you like to help choose?

I'm So Feeling the Laurel Court Tea Hall!~ You'll both Love it. it's perfect for times like these!

Well if it's alright with them. It is a lovely place

I'd love to

Then let's go! *He said. Taking Char's hand and heading that way*

*Taking Dante's hand and following them*

Soon they Arrive, Stepping into the Restaurant. Welcomed by Pleasant Aromas and a Comforting Atmosphere. The Soft Murmur of Conversation from other Individuals Only softened by the Sounds of The Cooks Moving about And The Fireplace Nearby. Presented with Tonight's menu upon Entry. **The Laurel Court Tea Hall** (intimate, quiet dinner) A “light dinner” built for conversation—small plates, soft aromas, lots of pale colors and delicate texture. * **Tea Course: Silver Laurel Flight (3 cups)** * Clear → floral → slightly sweet; each cup marked with a **tiny laurel stamp** on the rim. * **Plate One: Nectar-Glazed Fruit Tiles** * Fruit cut into **thin squares** like mosaic pieces; arranged as a **perfect grid** with a faint gold gloss. * **Plate Two: Sky Trout Cloud-Mousse** * Whipped trout served in a **white oval quenelle**, topped with a single micro-leaf; presented on a plate with a **crescent of silver salt**. * **Plate Three: Grain-Porridge “Ribbon Bowl”** * Porridge served smooth and bright; the top is combed into **parallel lines** so it looks woven; finished with a **gold thread** of nectar down the center. * **Sweet Bite: Laurel Honey Wafers** * Paper-thin wafers stacked like **mini columns**, one drop of nectar at the peak. (edited)

Fancy...

Almost every thing here is... We don't do basic....

It looks very Cozy.. *She said* (edited)

So... where do we sit? Or do they seat us? Do we order, or do they bring it? I don't know how shit works here...

No sooner had he got the words out than a Very pretty Waitress Arrived to show them to their tables. Leaving to start on bringing the Teas. (edited)

I'm so Excited for The Tea~! Always such Good Variety... In a few ways.~ *Pretending to listen to other people a few tables over* (edited)

Please tell me you're not trying to get gossip on other people again

Hey I only Speak about it to youuu~

6:36 PM

Not my fault everyone has surprisingly interesting stories to tell

The waitress leaves to get them their tea.

Anyway. Enough about that. How have you two been? Trials going well?

I guess so, they offered us our paths...

Well. I hope you pick the one that follows your heart

7:47 PM

*walking around with her lyre. Performing a song in swan language*

It's.. A Scary choice to make.. They say no option is right or wrong and yet i'm torn.

Be brave. Go with your soul

I'm a bit worried what that's going to look like for us though.

*Nods* I am too.. But.. *Reaching over to offer her hand to him* Regardless of what's Chosen.. It isn't goodbye, Right?.. It's just a.. See you again Sometime thing..

A whole season.

It's still not Forever.. We'll see eachother again..

8:45 PM

I hope.

*gasps* Well I'd much rather not see my favorite pair split! But if we must.....

Soon the First Course Arrived. The Teas as well as their first plate.

*coming past them with her music*

Lovely performer. Relatively recently turned Phoenix. *Takes a bite from his plate*

Huh? *Looking over at her* Turned.. Into?.. Wait She's a Phoenix? You have Phoenix's here?

We do indeed!!

8:48 PM

Well... Rarely. But yes

Sort of.. Phoenixes Don't just "Exist" per se. You have to become one by Living a Selfless Life. Doing only good for others rather than yourself without Wanting anything in return for it.. It's a long process. Once you die you're judged based on your Life choices. if you meet requirements.. You become a Phoenix.. But not much else is really fully understood about them.. Her death was particularly Sad.. but it isn't my place to tell her story. You'll have to talk to her about the rest. And if you want a clearer understanding of Phoenixes You're better off Asking the Council or Possibly even your Mentors.

Wow..

Right? Could you imagine one of us with flaming feathers like that?...*chuckles* But The Ancestors know we're not worthy

*overhearing them, she pauses in her path* You can talk to me later if you want... *She whispers before continuing on with her performance*

Although even if you don't become a Phoenix it doesn't necessarily mean you're a bad person or "evil". So don't let that bother you too much okay loves?~

8:57 PM

*Enjoying the tea and First course*

*Taking a sip of tea herself*

Hm... Makes me curious. If they live here on this planet now, do they get accepted under The Ancestors?

Something tells me I already know who to talk to about it.

They spend the next few hours Talking and Enjoy their time While also Enjoying the next courses. Eventually finishing and Leaving the Restaurant. Then the Four go to Dance for awhile. Slow. Intimate. Calm. Letting the moment Linger. Dante and Laika knowing the next few days will be tough. Having to make their decisions. Dreading leaving one another. But knowing they'll make every one of them count. After they dance. The couples split off for the night. Mal and Char heading home. While Dante and Laika take a bit to sit by the Pond Dante tends to sit near every day. In the peace and quiet. Just enjoying each other's company.. Before Eventually they head home. Going to their respectful rooms and Drifting off to sleep.