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Praxilla's Legacy was a virtual representation of one of Kassandra's genetic memories, relived by Layla Hassan through the Portable Animus HR-8.5.


After helping Praxilla to restore her lyre, Kassandra was asked to escort her to the poetry festival


  • Praxilla: The misthios returns! Do you have the time to accompany me and Achaikos to our triumphant performance?
  • Kassandra: After all this, I wouldn't miss it.
  • Praxilla: Excellent, we team up once more.
  • Kassandra: So we're a team now? Can I still expect to get paid?
  • Praxilla: After my performance, drachmae will be in no short supply, trust me.
  • Kassandra: You've dedicated your life to your art. You must have a lot to show for it.
  • Praxilla: I write a hundred poems every night when I go to sleep and throw out a hundred every morning when I wake up. Luckily some have survived to touch people.
  • Kassandra: Do you have any favourites?
  • Praxilla: There's one I'm well known for that is very dear to me. The most beautiful thing I leave is the light of the sun. Second are the shining stars and the face of the moon. Then ripe cucumbers, apples, and pears too.
  • Kassandra: Sounds nice. But we should get going.

Kassandra began escorting Praxilla.

  • Kassandra: So, cucumbers?
  • Praxilla: The sun gives us the fruit of the trees like the fruit of the loins.
  • Kassandra: In your poem, you say you leave the sun. Why?
  • Praxilla: Not me. Adonis. He is being asked upon death about the most beautiful things he's left behind. To me, there is no greater beauty than that of the sun and the moon and stars.
  • Kassandra: Oh! Why is he being asked this?
  • Praxilla: Adonis is beauty incarnate. What could be so beautiful that even he would be pained to leave?

They reached a small stage outside the Port of Kreusis, where a crowd was gathering.

  • Kassandra: I see. Looks like we made it.
  • Praxilla: Marvelous, thank you! Looks like my adoring fans are ready for me. Be sure to catch the show.

Kassandra walked up the stage alongside Praxilla, watching the crowd. Alkibiades was among the individuals in attendance.

  • Phaenna: It's Praxilla!
  • Laches: I heard she was coming this year!
  • Krantor: Praxilla! Recite something for us.
  • Praxilla: I've been reciting this poem for years. Kassandra, would you do me the kindness of allowing me to hear it anew from your lips?
  • Kassandra: I couldn't.
  • Praxilla: Nonsense, you know everything you need to do it justice. How about something new this year?

Kassandra recited the poem.

  • Kassandra: The most beautiful thing I leave is the light of the sun.
  • Krantor: Praise be Apollo!
  • Kassandra: Second are the shining stars and the face of the moon.
  • Laches: This is one of my favorites.
  • Kassandra: Then ripe cucumbers, apples, and pears too.
  • Civilian: That's always been my favorite verse.
  • Praxilla: I'm happy my poem touched you so deeply, Kassandra. Have you thought about trading your spear for the lyre?
  • Kassandra: I will stick to swinging swords, thanks.

They later heard a commotion, realizing a group of bandits are attempting to disrupt the festival.

  • Praxilla: It wouldn't be a poetry festival without someone causing a disturbance.
  • Kassandra: Praxilla! Get to safety. I can handle them.

Kassandra joined some of the civilians and fought off the bandits. She returned to Kassandra.

  • Praxilla: Happens every year. Some cursed idiots drink too much wine and get themselves killed.
  • Kassandra: I didn't know poetry festivals were such lively events.
  • Praxilla: Indeed. I need to take a moment to recover. Let's go back to my tent.

Kassandra followed Praxilla to her tent. They found Alkibiades and Orchimedes there.

  • Alkibiades: Ah, but we do have a happy ending!
  • Orchimedes: Praxilla, it has taken me long years of soul searching and many nights of tears to bring myself to this moment. I am Orchimedes, your son.
  • Praxilla: When I heard the name of the man who stole my lyre, I suspected it might be you.

Orchimedes held Praxilla's hands.

  • Orchimedes: I've dreamt of hurting you as you hurt me and my father a thousand times. But I only knew you as the mother who abandoned me, and not as the artist I just saw.
  • Praxilla: Just as Adonis lamented the beauty he left behind, I too left that which was most precious to me on the death of my old self.
  • Kassandra: You're not dead. Neither of you are. Take this opportunity and see what you can build together.
  • Praxilla: Thank you for all your help.


Kassandra escorted Praxilla to the poetry festival and recited her famous poem to the crowd. Later on, she watched as Praxilla was reunited with her son.


  • Historically, the poem recited was, according to Zenobious, considered a proverb for silliness.



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