pearly whites

Being a bishop and similarly one of the seven ghosts, doesn’t leave a soul with much free time – let alone a time for rest. But Castor makes it work.

He likes to spend his spare moments, sitting on the ledge by the church reservoir dragging his fingers through the stream of water, waiting for her. When she surfaces it’s all pearly whites, grinning up at him.

They’ll sit like that for however long. Occasionally Razette will fill the silence with a hum of the church’s anthem, or Castor will talk about his day in great detail. There are times when he’ll start to ramble on about things he needs to get done. Razette will often respond with a splash, or a cautionary nibble on his arm or leg; one time she even pulled him into the water alongside her. He won’t admit it, but sometimes the rambles are intentional.

Free time only leaves him longing, though. He’ll find himself glancing over at the water every time he walks by, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He doesn’t see her the majority of the time; she’s too wary of strangers. Her trust given to but a select few: the ghosts, Teito, and a few of the nuns.

But just knowing she’s there, and is safe, is enough for Castor.

There are times when Castor will have left the church for an extended period of time due to work. And despite her best efforts, Razette often fails to remain positive. The uncertainty stresses her out. Is he okay? Is he safe? Is he suffering? Because she knows he keeps a lot to himself, and she resents that fact. She resents it because she and he both know that he is surrounded by those who love and care for him; people who would travel the seven districts and back if it meant ensuring his happiness. And at least when he’s home – even if he is suffering – he has everyone there at a moment’s notice.

She gets lonely too. Her singing voice won’t carry its usual chirp and flow, instead the notes waver and die on her tongue all too soon.

His arrival home is like a breath of fresh air, or in Razette’s case the warm patch of a freezing body of water. It feels familiar; it feels right, like the missing piece needed to restore the balance of her world has been put back in place.

After church, Castor will occasionally have Razette accompany him back to his office – if she’s feeling up to it. She’ll make herself cozy on one of the lounges, sipping at a sweet tea that Labrador himself has made up for her. For her, it’s very sweet.

Sometimes instead of working Castor will simply join her. She’ll rest her head in his lap while he strokes her hair. His hands are elegant but strong, dexterous but slow and his touch is feather-like. And for each stroke there’s that requited feeling of cherishment. Often she’ll nod off from how relaxing it is, and when she awakes Castor is still there, same as ever. He’ll caress her cheek as she sits up, and in return receive that genuine grin of pearly whites.

A few times the opposite has happened. Castor will have dozed off while sprawled across Razette, still in the comforts of his office. She’ll sing softly to him, almost lullaby-like. She can’t help but foster his sleeping face, full of youth and vulnerability, dissolved of worry or any other sign of stress.

But then those expressions can take a turn for a worse. He’ll start shaking, and if he wasn’t one of the seven ghosts Razette’s sure he’d have moisture dripping off him.

“Mother!” he’ll call.

“No, father! Don’t!” he’ll shriek.

“Razette! Razette!” he’ll yell.

And the look on his face is too painful. Any shred of confidence he has is drained from his face, all that remains is this terrified boy, trembling in fear. Razette cried the first time, completely at a loss for what to do – for being so helpless.

She adapted, though. Every time since – not that it happened often – she would give him a soft shake and then place her hands on either side of his head, caressing his cheeks. She’d lean down and sing into his ear what she knew to be his favourite songs of hers. And if that didn’t do the job, she’d lean down onto his chest and wrap her arms around him, trying to comfort him with her embrace.

When he’d startle out of it and see Razette’s worried face glancing down at him, he calmed down. A few shallow breaths, a lick of his lips, and the rearrangement of his hair and glasses and he felt in control again. He’d sit up slowly from Razette’s lap, plant a kiss on cheek followed by, “Sorry, and thank you.” Which Razette would huff at. Castor would laugh. His insistence on apologizing and then thanking her really agitated her. It wasn’t something that required a foreign thanks; it was something that should be naturally expected of a decent soul, even more so a partner – where unspoken thanks are expressed through your trust for one another. As if Castor would follow that, though.

Saying goodbye to Teito was hard. In their time together, both Castor and Razette had grown really close with him. Razette didn’t have many people she felt safe bonding with, so getting to know Teito had been something entirely new. Immediately she’d felt safe around him, he’d been an abundance of vibrant coral amongst the trails of rotten seaweed. His friendship brought out a newfound feeling of self-belief, and a sense of humour she hadn’t known she had.

Castor had noticed the development too, but no matter what he said no words could ever express the extent of his gratitude.  For so long he’d wished for another positive soul in Razette’s life, and Teito had been perfect. Teito’s purity and the behaviours that ran parallel were something Castor could no longer provide for Razette. Purity inspired; with purity came hope, merriment, and the unequivocal feeling that all was right with the world.

It was nice seeing Razette smile at times when he couldn’t be there, and knowing that his presence was no longer the sole reason for her happiness – he’d wanted more than that for her. Thanks to Teito, she could smile at other things about life too.

When the time came, Razette didn’t let go of her grip around Teito for a good few moments. After they separated they’d started giggling, giggling at the fact their faces were both wet from the tears. Razette morphed her face into Frau’s, having him shed the tears instead which only ensued in more laughter and an “Oi!” from the man himself.

They had waved Frau and Teito off, watching the two fly into the distance on the hawkzile. Castor was stood behind Razette, with his arms wrapped around her. She gave his arm a nervous squeeze and looked up at him, biting her lip. Castor smiled. “They’ll be fine,” he said, and popped a kiss to the top of her head. Razette just grinned with those big pearly whites.