She thought a man such as Joseph Thorne, if anyone, would like a place such as Northern Curiah. Maybe it was the fact that he must have been closely familiar with death, but it wasn't really a place she could show someone who wasn't. Death seemed to be a burden to most, one which they would rather avoid. Any funeral director would understand that it had its place too, and this just happened to be its place.
"There's a temple here for that," she said, ever a terrible hostess, though she hoped her earnest attempt at connection would show. "For death, I mean. No one lives there anymore, if you believe in any of that." She didn't know why she was reluctant to say that she once did, or that Curiah's gods were present in the world. The building itself -- wooden, snow-covered, and cozy -- wouldn't be able to say otherwise. She almost wished it would.
"Er, I probably shouldn't bother you about death when you're not at work," Kor admitted. She had no reason to assume he would be put off by such a thing (in fact, he brought her more comfort somehow than she wanted to admit), but she knew that if she was off the clock, she'd be reluctant to talk about work. Maybe she wasn't being empathetic. Maybe she was being abrasive again.
The sound of bells, a rich and deep ringing, softened the air. "The wishing bell," Kor murmured. "I forgot to show you the wishing bell." She took the man's hand and guided him towards a large white platform, elevated by a thin stairs on each side. At the top, a single bell waited for visitors. It remained untouched by the snow that drifted through the air, as if some warmth or another protected it. "Ring it," said Kor. "If you want. I guess everyone has a wish they want granted, don't they?"
The town looked so lonely from up on the platform. If she were to make a wish, she wished she brought Joseph to the café instead.
"...I guess it doesn't matter, though. The wishing bell is just a name. It doesn't actually do anything."
And such was the nature of bringing a new guest to one's hometown; the version worth showing someone was always somehow in the past, under a filter of nostalgia and time, and rather much of nothing was quite as it seemed. Kor gave a half-hearted smile towards Zero. "It's still worth making a wish though, just to do it. Go ahead, if you want."
np, If you don't want to show Kor around, you can show around anyone in this folder or this one!
VVVV YUNE THANK YOU I AM LIVING FOR REN AND MARCHIONESS INTERACTIONS THANK YOUUUU
"If you hadn't shown me such hospitality, those words would be worth leaving over," the Lady warned, her cold eyes narrowing. "But surely I know you not to be a fool by now, so I suppose I could answer your question. Coldness is a form of preservation, you know. It slows the onset of rot. You never know when being frigid could keep someone from spoiling."
She let out a long, uneven breath and sipped the wine the lovely housekeeper gave her. "I may have once been different. Let's say, to entertain the idea, that I used to be less guarded. Do you know what happens to people who aren't guarded, Mr. Passacaille? They lose everything they love." With this, her eyes trailed the night-cloaked coastline, as if looking for something she hoped to see in the water; something she would never find, but softened her gaze for just a fleeting moment. "Does anything live there? No, no, certainly not. Forget that, would you?"
If Ren's words stung, they stung for good reason. She had been made like this. For that Count to have refashioned her in his carelessness and his cruelty... Don't let it get to you.
"That woman you know," she said, her countenance sharpening once more and locking onto Ren, "I would dare to assume she is cold for a reason, too. No one is born like the harsh ocean, Mr. Passacaille. I assume she, too, had to freeze out the rot out of her life."
She laid down the wine glass. Her tense grip had caused it to crack slightly in her hands.
"...Thank you for showing me your villa."