The opening sequence to this piece maybe doesn't set the whole mood, but definitely serves as ample notice "here there be feels."

>Meiling looked mildly surprised. "You don't—of course you don't," she
>interrupted herself. Grinning, she shuffled through the pile, extracted one
>of the volumes, and handed it across the table. "See for yourself! They're fun."
>

I can't help but wonder what Meiling would make of the state of modern comics as they exist IRL. Probably a much less upbeat assessment.

>"But he does need a home." A faraway look came into the old man's eyes as
>he went on, "He's been sitting in that window for ever such a long time.
>Since before the Neuroi came. He watched them take the city, then watched
>them go again. He's seen a lot from his throne behind that glass, has good
>King Babar. Perhaps it's time for him to go and seek his fortune in the world
>outside it."
>

I always end up halfway re-reading these when I dive back in for quotes and in light of what gets revealed later this bit just hits in a whole new way the second time around.

>Flandre shook her head. "I didn't, at the time. The ones at that store
>weren't... I don't know how to explain it. They didn't speak to me." She
>turned her head, catching the slightly puzzled, slightly concerned look
>crossing her sister's face, and rolled her eyes in mild exasperation. "I
>don't mean it literally. Honestly, sometimes I think you don't really believe
>I'm not crazy. Anyway, I was never that kind of crazy. I didn't hear voices.
>Well, except for my own. Look, all I'm saying is, this one is special."
>

Two thoughts that occur here are, in no particular order, that a few centuries of habit must be hard to fully break, and that I am feel compelled to fanboy just a bit here at the weaving of some humor into even the heavy moments of this piece overall. The literary craftsmanship is noticed and appreciated Gryphon.

>"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Flan. I couldn't help
>you. I didn't know what to do. Nothing I tried worked. Eventually, I... I
>gave up," she admitted miserably. "I'm so sorry."
>

Back on the topic of the feels of this piece, I'm not sure a sequence in simple text has made me wish I could hug fictional characters quite so much. Flandre possibly just a touch more, but they're both small, pretty sure they'd fit easily into a group hug if it were possible.

On a less visceral (not sure if that's the best word, but it's all my mental thesaurus is providing at the moment) level, it's good to see the sisters taking some of this time to talk through their lingering issues a bit. I expect they'll be better off for it in the long run.

>Her eyes steady on her younger sister's, Remilia paused for just a moment,
>then said with a very slight smile, "And so Prince Vazul Skarlátvörös became
>Count Victor Scarlet."
>

I didn't see this coming during Remilia's story until the paragraph immediately preceding this line. I feel a bit dense for not picking up that scent sooner.

>Next to her, her younger sister Flandre looked a bit more contemporary, but
>also slightly funereal, in her black skirt-and-vest set over a white blouse
>and petticoat.
>

Bit of a chuckle, for me, here since there's a decent chance that Flandre chose that outfit to be cheerful, given vampiric fashion sensibilities.

>The only hitch they ran into was when the time came for them to be
>photographed for their new identity documents. Sakuya and Meiling,
>summoned by telephone from the hotel for the occasion, sat for their
>photos without difficulty, but taking pictures of the Scarlets themselves
>proved to be impossible with the equipment the Interior Ministry had available.
>Like virtually all photographic equipment in use at that time, it relied on
>salts of silver to function, so the photographer managed only to take perfectly
>framed pictures of an apparently empty chair.
>

I'm not sure if the forum side conversation on vampires and photographic technology bore some useful fruit here, or if it was just an amusing coincidence that it came up just before this piece.

In any case, I am guessing it is one of those "magic is just like that" things that somehow whatever prevents vampires from being photographed also somehow prevents their clothes from showing up, rather than an Invisible Man style presentation.

>The phrase he used for these methods, always uttered with a smile and a
>chuckle, was cacher les cadavres: "hiding the bodies."
>

Somehow I feel like most professions have some variation of this, though that might be a bad turn of phrase for those pursuits that could result in actual bodies.

>The product of her afternoon was not, strictly speaking, a stuffed animal,
>but rather a cloth doll: a depiction of her elder sister, complete with a
>detailed miniature reproduction of one of her usual pink outfits, mob cap,
>wings and all. Doll-Remilia had eyes made from translucent red coat buttons
>and a permanent little stitched-on smile, punctuated with tiny triangular
>upper fangs made from chips of some pearlescent material, that gave her a
>faint air of smugness.
>

Not a bat in a mob cap, but just as adorable. And 'faint air of smugness' for Remilia is pretty much, in D&D parlance, an at-will cantrip.

>When this business with the government is finished, perhaps I should drop in
>and see him in Folkestone, Remilia mused, setting aside her teaspoon and taking
>a sip of red tea. Must pick up a tide chart for the Pas de Calais.
>

It would be interesting to see if that would go down all that well. I don't imagine all military installations, even with witches about, are as flexible in the face of the should-be-impossible as witches of St. Ulrich.

>Presently Flandre said, "I went back to M. Constantin's shop again, but it was
>locked and there was no one inside. I asked in the butcher's shop next door if
>anyone had seen him..." She looked up, making eye contact with her sister, and
>went on in a small voice, "... and they said that he had died."
>Frowning, Remilia took Flandre's nearer hand, squeezing it, and said gently,
>"I'm so sorry to hear that."
>"I just saw him yesterday," Flandre said.
>Remilia nodded. "I know. But... that's the way of things with humans sometimes,
>I'm afraid. Didn't you tell me he was quite an elderly man?"
>Flandre shook her head. "No. I mean yes, he was, but you don't understand. They
>told me he died three years ago. In Britannia. During the occupation."
>

Another bit that snuck up on me. On the first reading, I had thought the 'slightly fae vanishing toyshop' angle might have been left aside, then I got here. This sequence does show nicely that both sisters can be just as wise as one another, and as their 4+ centuries of life would generally have led them to be.

	-={(Astynax)}=- "It's a terrible day for rain."