Cassandra is sitting downstairs, quietly, humming to herself and feeling vaguely melancholy and somewhat unhappy. She's thinking about Hector, and Andromache, and Troy, and missing it, even knowing that it's long gone and can never come back.

Feel free to come say hello, she's just sewing something, hands moving rapidly.

Cassandra stumbles out of the woods as evening is coming on and manages to get to the porch before she collapses, her knees feeling weak and her head spinning. She puts her face in her hands and hauls herself to a sitting position, realizing for the first time how cold it is outside, but not feeling ready to get up again. So she sits shivering on ( Read more... )

Cassandra is curled in a chair, feeling downright gloomy. She tries to remind herself that it's been years, but every day she half-expects to turn around and see Ajax leering at her, holding her arm in bruising fingers so she can't run. She swallows hard and tries to think of something else, but the only other thing she can think of is the surreal ( Read more... )

Cassandra's been sitting alone since yesterday, when she read the words that brought back her rape in horrifying detail. Currently she's curled up in a chair, head on her arms, her eyes distant and her expression blank. She lowers her forehead to rest it on her knees, eyes pricking with tears. She's just remembered that today would have been ( Read more... )