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Chrysanthe is quick to take a seat next to Cassandra, the Milcery finding joy in mimicry of the waves alongside of them until he notices the Cutiefly atop, too, and starts to mimic a sleeping figure instead, a drawn-out piece of liquid hanging in the air as it floats by comfortably, as if asleep. The youngest of them doesn't seem too sad about not getting a reply, however, as she directs her attention towards Lavinia instead, a gasp escaping when she hears about the phone. "Oh ... if there is something wrong, you can have mine, too, until yours get fixed!" she is quick to offer. In the end, the most important contacts should be the same, though probably under very different names.[break]
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"Yeah! I just wanted to ride the boat to, y'know, steel myself in face of water, but it's been mostly fun so far!" she babbles on, "you know, because it seems like many lost castles are submerged by water now ... but what about you?" She wonders out loud as she taps the seat next to her for Lavinia to take if she wants to, giving the Hatterene a warm smile, even though she does not expect a necessary reply of any sort. She still feels ... irritably happy, to be honest. It feels like it's been so long, with the three of them, as her fingers sneak around to hold each of her sisters' hand.

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Even if Chrysanthe were more perceptive, she would clearly see no lie in her sister's words - she would not want for there to be something untrue, would not be able to console such a thing with how she views the worlds as this inherently kind place where such things as tragedies ... what even are those, really? "Sounds like an eventful trip, for sure," thusly, Chrysanthe merely replies with a smile and a nod. But even she might sense that something is off in this picture-perfect world, that not everything is as they seem ... because she doesn't inquire more as normal, does not bombard the older one with more questions about the where and how and why, and whether or not she would be able to go on the same trip in the future, too.[break]
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Instead, there is a silence as she shifts her attention towards the Nacli again, a curious glance - a warm smile of recognition. "Of course! You brought me here, right? A little white hare," Chrysanthe hums, scurrying closer to the other as she gives her a bit, "have you been going on adventures with Cassie, too? Oh ..." She then briefly looks back at her sister as she sits down on the ground, "do you have to leave soon?"

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Quite not perceiving the hostile exchanges of glances her mother and the knight had, there is nothing that disturbs Chrysanthe in her joy as her mother compliments her and she feels quite comfortable herself. "Hehe ... thank you! You are very beautiful yourself, did I already tell you today?" Probably, but the innocent, bright smile on her face is nothing but genuine however. As if it's a necessary tradition of the day to go on about it, an easy yet heartfelt compliment leaving her lips before it goes on and she finds herself on the Rapidash, right in front of her mother.[break]
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"Collin, huh? And you're such a pretty one, too!" Chrysanthe chirps, fingers going gently through the silky mane as she pats her newfound companion for the day. A - in her eyes - regal horse, one could say, that doesn't seem quite so bothered by the excited child on their back - possibly a nudge older than it would normally carry, but ... also rather quiet in that sense, not moving too much around as she remembers that she is a princess. That means she should be on her best behaviour, right?[break]
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Excited over the prospect of both the princess parade and the sword she's sure bound to get some time, some day, this day, she can't help the smile on her face that widens, curious eyes of excitement that wander left and right. As trumpets announce her entrance, however, she tilts her a head a little backwards, big eyes staring up at her mother, "uhm ... actually, what am I supposed to be doing right now?" Well ... she read a lot in fairytales, and such, but ... in this moment, it kind of escapes her yet ...

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It seems that Doireann's last-ditch effort to deescalate the situation bring forth nothing as instead, it all but seems to worsen by the sight, as he can only disagree with her words, but they fall on deaf ears as it seems like Lavinia is set on her own answer, and a mere Mawile of all Pokémon could change nothing about it. There is, however, a more protective stance that he tries to take as the Gardevoir reappears, building up a barrier alongside the Iron Valiant, all the while that Doireann is trying not to point his second mouth towards Lavinia. Fortunately, Liadan doesn't attack outright, preparing for battle, but never initiating it outright. She knows that Chrysanthe holds a care for them that runs deep if in a warped way, sometimes.[break]
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Though there are few choice words she could utter if only capable of human speech, the Gardevoir is a picture of calm composure standing in contrast to the outbreak that Lavinia experiences - sharp eyes that follow each movement, perceive each word, and yet nothing rings true in her mind as she exchanges a glance with the Iron Valiant. Then, she teleports again.[break]
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---

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Chrysanthe rubs her eyes, waking in a world that is burning - changing to something gentler as her tears fall, moulding the world around her to a dream-like escape that she so yearns for. There is the light touch of the Hatenna in this wonderful dream, the gentle exuding smoke of the Munna as it changes colours, from nightmare to daydream. She gathers them both, unable to think - unable to dream as even this world falls into itself, leaving a starkly white canvas. A world of nothing but light, and she weeps, not understanding the world.[break]
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Outside, the Marshadow lurks from the shadows of the princess' sleeping body, a dull ache within itself as it disappears again - ready to strike if needed, but this is no danger that a punch could mend. It etches closer, laying arms of darkness around her, and her world turns into a comforting dark.[break]
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---

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Liadan appears mere feet in front of Lavinia this time, the illusionary duplicates easing away as she halts - approaching, as if in acknowledgement of the words uttered, yet unwilling to yield to words alone. In the end, words are treacherous, just as the ones the sisters both uttered right at the beginning. How would the words right now hold meaning, if such cruelty stands on the other side of the scale? But Chrysanthe's love - Doireann's trust must mean something, so she shows an act of mercy - of cruelty herself, perhaps, as she reaches out her arms, not touching the other, but still in close-enough proximity to synchronise the sisters' feelings as her eyes glow bright, transmitting the raw emotions from Chrysanthe's point of view.[break]
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Her undying joy of seeing her sister amidst this chaos - yet the fearful illusion she crafted herself, of this isn't actually my sister because my sister isn't cruel, this unwavering trust she has in Lavinia to be kind - the undying belief in this tremendously ugly world to be wonderful, to perceive each as something so incredibly beautiful, even at the cost of not seeing what she does not wish to see. This dream, that each of them desire to protect, as it comes burning and crashing with reality.[break]
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The love, unbroken, that she has for her family.[break]
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In turn, Liadan perceives at the very surface of disfigured terror - and love and fear and pride, and the hardships she went through in this battle-torn place, whereas the young one passed through easily with the help of the shadows. She retraces her hands as her eyes' glow dim - though she does not think to reach an agreement with this alone, it's the least she can offer in terms of an understanding. And, after another beat of eternity, the Gardevoir reaches out once more, only for Lavinia to take her hand, if she so wishes - to go see her sister.

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Chrysanthe does not notice her sister lunging forth, nor the words that are uttered in plea - all she notices is a surging darkness in her mind, too closed off to what is actually happening to realise the truth of the matter. All she can think of is wanting to be gone, gone, gone - gone, wherever it may be, as long as it's away from here.[break]
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Once safely landed in a different part of the forests is Gardevoir laying easy, offering a warm embrace to the young one and her troubled Pokémon that scatter and collect all around her. The princess - the young girl weeps, and weeps, feeling an ache in her heart that she so rarely experiences in full, if ever. This can't be her world. Her world isn't so - bruised, and broken, and lonely. Her world shouldn't be like this - the forest burnt, nature scratched and bruised, with a raging spirit of the woods lashing out on her in the form of her sister. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry - I'm so very sorry ..." she mutters, repeats amidst her sobbing, unable to see past of what she thinks to be true. It's a scary world outside ... but inside, as well.[break]
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The Hatenna is looking at her trainer with distress, reaching out to connect with the other physically despite the turmoil that she herself is facing in the presence of so many overwhelming emotions. This is why she cannot let her suffer like this, why reality can't be fit for such an innocent soul that longs - no, that belongs in a world where everything is as she wants it to be. Exchanging glances with the Munna, Aisling begins to lull her to sleep as the Gardevoir nods - letting out a small sigh. Silently, they communicate her return to the shores, to finish this once and for all. She knows that she can ... trust the shadows that roam alongside the princess. So, she teleports back.[break]
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It's only for the Mawile to witness the fall of Lavinia, watches with horror as the Hatterene and the Iron Valiant exchange blows and blades of psychic energy, determination on either of their faces, standing for who and what they believe to be worth the fight. The eldest Kubrick sister scares him in this moment, though his fear is more for her well-being - the well-being of Chrysanthe, of both of the sisters, of all the sisters that are past the stage of toddlers and younglings. Furiously, the Mawile begins to gesture as Lavinia speaks, trying to implore the other not to think that her sister would hate her because he knows that Chrysanthe does not, could never truly hate for someone she holds so dearly to her heart. There is no part in this world, no place in this universe where this world could hold any true value. But still ... Doireann is limited to intangible sounds and frantic gestures alone, shaking his head (and the attached second mouth with it) to fully make a point that matters, or so he thinks as he looks more desperate and sombre the longer this goes on.[break]
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He is quick to attach himself to her side, careful to see if there is any discomfort from the other, as the Hatenna disengages from battle, leaving Benedict on stand-by himself - not attacking the wounded foe as the Mawile expresses his trust in the other. And just as Lavinia mentions the Gardevoir ... Liadan appears once more, her eyes glowing a dangerous determination, readying an attack as she stands by the side of the Iron Valiant, both dual types to hinder any advances, as long as the well-being of their chosen one is not secured; Double Teams from either Pokémon are multiplying their presences, building a wall of illusions amidst this cruel reality. Mistrust stemming from both of them is palpable in the air as they regard the Mawile silently, the only reason they haven't outright attacked just yet.

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It's not unusual for Chrysanthe to walk off on her own, guarded by forces that she can't nor feels any pleasure in explaining or reasoning. They exist and allow her to live comfortably in this place, even as the world burns down. Even as war rages, she remains in her glass castle, in this wonderful dream where everything is just fine ... but it cracks, and the longer they wander the once-familiar routes, the more she runs into things she cannot remember (battles, scars - wild creatures at unrest, nature being undone in the favour of human greed and human determination), she wonders ... Where is she even headed to? Where are they supposed to go? Be?[break]
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The longer she goes on, the more of her Pokémon - those that they packed, leaving behind everyone else in uproar and unrest over this strange disappearance of their trainer, their princess, their precious one - appear close to her, as if guarding the young one amidst their middle. Doireann the Mawile looks uneasy as Aisling the Munna and Catriona the Hatenna accompany her easily, with Liadan the Gardevoir walking hand-in-hand with Chrysanthe, Benedict the Iron Valiant showing off some of its magic tricks. It's ... eerily peaceful, amidst the strangeness of this place, and she doesn't even remember that she should go home soon. She doesn't remember - until-[break]
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With wonder, she watches the figure of her sister appear in front of her, her face morphing to that of joy at first - it's Lavinia! Does she want to join her walk-? But that breaks so soon, terror washing over her expression as she flinches at her full name being spoken, like some evil spell that has her terrified. An evil spell that reveals the figure in front of them to be scratched and bruised and mad, in rage, wrathful, and so very unlike the sister she knows. She cowers at the cold tone as her shadows quivers in anticipation of a blow that never comes, at the harsh words that make it through her stubborn mind. Her face pales as she takes a step back, their Pokémon further crowding around her as they sense the fear she holds.[break]
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This isn't. This can't be- it has to be someone else, someone who isn't - it can't be.[break]
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A tear falls down her face, her voice trembling, "y-you ... you're - you're not my sister. I - I hate you!" Her last words echo in the lonely forest, burnt and bruised just like the figure in front of her. An evil spirit? Is the forest mad at her? They feel their throat closing as she is barely able to hold back her tears anymore, turning to the Gardevoir with an urgent voice, "please ... take me away, take me away-" Her mind is a mess - she doesn't know what to feel, what to think, what to-[break]
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But with one careful Teleport, glances exchanged between the Iron Valiant and the Gardevoir, the latter disappears with Aisling, Catriona - and Chrysanthe, leaving only Doireann and Benedict. The latter is quite ready to take on the remaining in battle if needed, honing their blade - all in the service of their chosen one. Whereas Doireann looks nervous, trying to walk up to Lavinia with a plead on his lips, but unable to form the words she might be better to understand. He turns to Linus instead, hoping ... but considering the state of things, how long this must have been going on, he doesn't know. He just doesn't know anymore.

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The boat ride has been her idea - something about how she has to train herself alongside the water if she wants to defeat evil wizards that are destroying the lost castle again, or something, or another. The stories that Chrysanthe draws are quite ... colourful, each and every time, with hinging barely on the reality they perceive, but after being stuck in a loophole of losing her pendant and looking for it amidst a Sea Mauville that is breaking down by the second, perhaps, leniency is given to the middle child that always comes out of the strangest situations unscathed. Almost as if she is truly a fairytale princess, wielding her plot armor, as the story without a princess to save ... why would it even be, really?[break]
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But as this is a place of the element of water, and as this is a training, in a sense, she has decided to let out Ferghas the Milcery, impish as he may be, but he is able to move along the shores and the waves by imitating them, delighting the young one tremendously - when something else catches the joy in her eyes even more, and she immediately runs as the Milcery floats alongside, a liquid sweetness following. "Caaaaaaassie! Cass! You're here! And Misuk, too!" she runs up to her older sister, quickly waving over Lavinia, almost with a sense as if all of this has been planned. As if, of course, their get-together should have been like this from the start. Planned. Arranged together. With nothing falling apart, ever.

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