[Lavender. Her mother was fond of it. As much as Ciel is prone to using the kitchen for one reason or another, she did leave the laundry to the capable servants of the citadel. Why was that scent picked? It must've been pure chance.

She watches the other woman carefully weave her way though the fabrics in spite of her injured hand, figuring that waiting in support and letting her get used to acting out motions of everyday life is probably better than trying to help her through every little thing. It still feels... unfair, though; why someone like this, on Horos? Ciel had met a crippled man on the Pleroma's side before, and he turned out to be a formidable fighter. But this...

Setting uncertainties of the future aside, she nods, and at Carmine's request, helps her tie the sash into a neat little butterfly bow. Is that okay? The returning gaze is questioning. She makes sure to not pull too tight.]

Somewhat. I woke up here about five months ago. The second group was three months ago. You're part of the third, Carmine. The dreams always come before it, with the light at the center and the darkness surrounding it. [The same prelude, again and again.] Do you remember, before waking up here?