[attr="class","xio"]It takes a special kind of person to survive in the streets of Tartarus. There is no forgiveness for those who make their home there, by birth or choice. Xiomara had eyed the chapel with a lingering glance, on its painted glass and eroded stones, barely maintained in its age. With a stomach aching for substance and a chill in her bones, she had broached the doors with nothing to lose and all to gain. Isn't it funny, then, how she approaches the doors today, with nothing to lose?
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She would not say she's friends with Eirin. Not at all, though she thinks it's as close as she could get. There was a part of her that thirsted for knowledge; from the golems and their imposing presence, to the strange vials of liquid that the alchemist had spread across the chapel. The kingmaker is fickle and prickly, though that's never stopped Xiomara from coming back time and time again. She knows that Eirin doesn't have much patience for anything friendly, but Xiomara has always given her a smile anyways.
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Today though, when she opens the door to the chapel, soaking wet, Xiomara greets at Eirin with tears in her eyes and a quiet sob that wracks her body. Her legs wobble slightly before she sinks to her knees. A wilting flower that had lost all its petals, with only the kingmaker and her golems to see.
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Well? She's waiting, Xiomara.
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"I--I'm sorry Eirin." She sputters out first, wraps her hands around her shoulders, suddenly cold on the tile floor, "I've lost everything. My house, my information, my reputation...I've been running for so long, but I'm so tired." She says. The words tumble out of her mouth in a jumbled mess. Her mind is still working in overtime, to try and fix this.
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"I don't know what do to, but please...I need your help. I'll do anything, just name your price."

[attr="class","xio"]Xiomara had always prided herself on her independence. Even with Kasi, her closest confidant and brother, she'd refused to burden him with her own issues. She had had faced her own problems with barred teeth and shrewdness, it had gotten her far. But...it had also been the cause of her downfall, her refusal to ask for help and stubbornness to fix the problems on her own accord. And now she was finally here, wet and cold with nothing left but herself and begging the kingmaker to do something for her.
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Isn't this a little sad Xiomara? What do you have left to live for?
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She is listless as Eirin Leyfson walks down the steps. Xiomara has long gotten used to the movement of Eirin's golems, knowing that they would not hurt her so long as Eirin willed it so. They had not raised a hand at Xio since they'd met, but Xiomara had still walked a cautious line, always on guard in case Eirin felt particularly fickle that day.
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Isn't it exhausting to always expect the worst?
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Eirin's hand is cold on her cheek. Xiomara stares into her eyes, wanting to see something. Anything. She sees nothing. Eirin is notoriously hard to read, even after all these years.
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Xiomara had heard about what had gone down at the gala; she'd meant to visit Eirin afterwards, to perhaps offer some condolences and a small gift in lieu of not showing up. But she had already been on the path of ruin on that day, and there was no way out.
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"I was planning on going to the gala..." Xiomara starts, telling her story from beginning to end. It's winding and not organized at all, but Eirin has opened the floodgates, and her story is a tsunami of jumbled words and broken promises. She's empty and exhausted when she finally finishes, no tears left to fall. There's no use in hiding anymore.
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The flask that Eirin hands her swirls with some mysterious liquid, but Xiomara doesn't question it. She downs it like a shot; it's not particularly tasty, but it makes her feel warm.
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"Thank you, Eirin..." She murmurs, taking a couple steps before her limbs suddenly feel weak, and she wobbles before the room tilts over. The last thing she sees is Eirin's deep frown. Was that revulsion, maybe? Or concern?
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There's not much time to consider. Xiomara hears You're safe, for now, and she finally stops fighting, letting darkness takeover as she collapses on the stairs...

[attr="class","xio"]It had occurred to her, more than once, that life wasn't fair.
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She is lying in a makeshift bed of leaves and red spider lilies. It was midnight, and she is going to be meeting up with Milo in three hours time. Grumpy is lying on her chest. He is purring, though not out of happiness, but to self soothe. Cats are strange like that.
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She is looking up at the stars. Milo is as bright as the sun, but she is born of earth, and she would never reach the skies.
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Maybe that meant then, that she was destined to always fall.
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"Hey Grumpy, do you think we'll ever make it?
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"No matter what happens, I'll always be by your side."
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"You didn't answer the question."
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"We will. I believe it."
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"I...I hope you're right." She says, not quite believing it herself. She rubs her eyes. When she lifts them away, it's wet. She's crying again, isn't she?
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But then she sees, in the bright moonlight, that her hand is not wet with tears. It's blood.
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---

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Xiomara gasps, jolting up in her bed. She's gripping the sheets so hard that her knuckles are white. She's breathing heavily. The memories of last night flash in her mind. And she suddenly feels somewhat...embarrassed. She's slow to take in the room, with all of it's trinkets and pillows. This must be the softest bed she's ever slept on. And well, she hasn't slept in a bed in months.
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Go wash your face. Eirin says, And get something to eat.
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She swallows. "...Okay. Thanks." She says, somewhat meek. Eirin watched her have a cry last night. And then she watched her sleep. Is this her bedroom? There were a lot of questions, but she's a little too shaken to really ask.
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The lower floors are much more familiar to her than the upper, having been here much more often. The bathroom is just as luxurious as the bedroom, with sunlight illuminating the gold trim and white marble. It's a sharp contrast to her, in the mirror. She looks awful. Her hair is straggly and unkempt, and her face was puffy from crying last night. There are dark circles that won't go away with just one night of good sleep.
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"Man..." She sighs as she washes her face. Could Eirin even fix her at this point? She's the kingmaker, not a mother. Not like Xio knew what a mother was like.
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At the very least, she brushes her hair and ties it back up in a bun, and slowly puts herself back together like she always has.
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She follows the scent of soup to the kitchen, where the golems were. "Mind if I grab some?" She says. Xiomara has a habit of talking to the them, even if they never responded back.
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It's a Red Delphi Stew, named for its color. Red meat stewed over long periods of time, cooked for so long that it falls off the bone at the slightest touch. Various aromatics have been added; a touch of rosemary here and there. There's even some parsley which Delphi was infamously low on.
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Xiomara finds Eirin's cathedral surprisingly cozy for someone who's famously anti-social. Maybe it's the familiarity that makes her feel more at ease. There are various trinkets spread across the home, like forgotten toys, and the golems make the tall ceilings feel a little less formidable. But it's still a home that's too big for the one person it houses.
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She wonders idly, if Eirin was ever lonely. Or if she'd just gotten used to being her own company. "Bon appetit." She says wistfully, and takes her first bite.
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It tastes like home. As close to one as Xio could really get.

[attr="class","xio"]It is peaceful, among the golems and in the sunlight. Of course, she had seen the couches in the room when she'd passed by them, but she also doesn't eat soup on the couch. Xiomara was raised on the streets, but she has some manners. And well, the golems made for good company, even if they were just constructs.
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Eirin descends the stairs not long after she'd grabbed the soup. Xiomara eyes the scrap of something in her hands with both curiosity and caution, wondering what the master alchemist had up her sleeve. She was no stranger to Eirin's variety of experiements, and this was no different...but Xiomara briefly wondered, if she was the one being experimented on now.
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Eirin smiles at her. Sympathy and a comforting voice. Someone who wanted to listen to her. It was...nice.
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She drops her spoon back into the bowl, now empty, her stomach full. Xiomara takes a long look at it before she feels tears roll down her cheek, and it neatly falls into the bowl underneath.
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"I want..."
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What does she want? Power? Wealth? Happiness? It had always been so far out of her grasp. Eirin had asked a million-dollar question...and she could grant it to Xiomara. Of course, for a price. And she had said it herself that she had nothing to lose.
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But...that meant starting all over again, right?
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She looks at Eirin in the eyes, earnest. Her face twists into something bitter, and she sneers.
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"I don't want to play these games anymore." She says. If the Kingmaker wanted the truth, then she'd get it.
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"I'm sick of it. I hate having to compete others just to reach the top. I hate having a system that enables and encourages people to cut each other down...I hate everything about Sybaris. I want to disappear."

[attr="class","xio"]In all her years of Sybaris, Xiomara would have never imagined that she would be standing in the Kingmaker's house, trashing the very system that she was in essense, a warden of. But strangely enough, Xiomara felt somewhat safe dilvulging such things to Eirin. Xio knew she wasn't someone who mindlessly defended their coven out of some sense of loyalty. After all, she was the kingmaker, not a king.
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But she hadn't expected Eirin to laugh.
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Xiomara stares, somewhat dumbfounded as Eirin proceeds to congratulate her and grab a bowl of soup. "Huh?"
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In the end, she knows what Eirin is getting too; that Sybaris is a rotting corpse, is that Xiomara could not escape its grasp because she had already imbibed it into her soul, from the countless missions that had embedded her to the coven's ideals, to the snakebite tucked behind her ear.
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Because even if she wanted to leave, nobody would take a bitten witch with far too many connections to her wrongdoings. She had been raised and groomed into the ideal coven member; she knew its flaws and its benefits, she knew where she stood in the scheme of the large machinery of the coven. She could not imagine a world without Sybaris,
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In the end, Eirin was right. Neither of them could ever leave...
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"Hah." She laughs, and it sounds just like Eirin's; somber and reserved, with a tinge of cynicism. But there's some curiosity in her eyes, the way that Eirin moves her hands, a master alchemist in her own right.
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She forgets too, that Eirin has dreams. She wonders what became of them. And now that she had laid out her grievances to the Kingmaker, maybe Eirin was offering the key to all of her hopes and dreams in that little glowing vial.
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She finally broaches the subject, cautious. "You couldn't disappear...so what did you do?"

[attr="class","xio"]You survive until you can live. Eirin says, and Xiomara can't help but think when do I get to live? She looks around at Eirin's big mansion filled with golems and she wonders what it took for her to get here. In the end, everyone suffers. Everyone loses. What has the Kingmaker lost in order to get here?
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She thinks that maybe it'd be better if she left Delphi altogether. She'd fantasized about running away and never looking back. But she knows that she couldn't; Delphi is all she knows.
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But the Kingmaker is offering her a compromise between both. She could live her life as much as she pleased. She didn't need to run. She thinks of how she nearly has nothing left. She thinks of Milo and Kasi and everyone around her...it would be better if she were gone, right?
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In desperation and despair. In hope and faith.
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Xiomara meets Eirin's smile with a solemn nod. "Okay. I'm ready." She says. She doesn't even know what Eirin will do, or what she's asking for in return. All she knows is that she trusts Eirin.
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"Just tell me what I need to do."

[attr="class","xio"]Eirin was going to give her what she finally wanted. A new life. It made her feel surreal, and she looks at Eirin in disbelief before she offers her hand, tentative.
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And it happens all too fast. Eirin is quick when she wants to be, and she pierces Xiomara's hand with a needle. "Ei...rin?" She manages before she's fully lost control of her body, wondering truly what she had signed up for.
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I'm ready. I'll do anything. She had told those words to Eirin like a mantra. And now that she was finally here, she was already having cold feet. [break][break]

Did she really deserve this?
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Did she really want this?
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You do. Grumpy thinks. He hasn't said anything for a while.
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How do you know that?
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I'm you. And you deserve to be happy.
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...
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Time passes. Slowly. She's awake the whole time; she can feel every single thing that Eirin does to her.
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The potions that are poured onto her skin--it's sickeningly painful. It makes her want to scream. She can feel her body burning off, every inch of her from head to toe. The master alchemist is rebuilding her from scratch, and she is bearing witness to all of it, with no mouth to scream and no eyes to see.
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She feels like she's dying. And she is.
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Xiomara does not exist on this world anymore.
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When Eirin finally finishes, exhausted, it's well into the night.
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She opens her eyes. The moon hangs high in the sky, as if a silent prayer.
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She tries her hands, feeling new skin shift and settle.
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She sits up; the world looks a little taller, from this perspective.
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She is not Xiomara anymore; she is Eirin's creation, from the ashes of her old life, reborn. Remade, into someone--something else.
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Dumbfounded, she looks at Eirin with wide doe eyes that are not hears, and speaks in a voice that is not hers.
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"It worked..."