jυѕт α ѕαcrιғιcε.

Whitlea, Misaya Reiroukan, and Bazett Fraga McRemitz have been dropped!

Irises colored as a glacial lake reflected cerebration in clouding over, misty with somnolence though the young priestess suffered no deprivation of lucidity, however much her responsive capacity should suffer. The thoughts which spun through her mind wove something like a web, one attenuated string of silk systematically crossing over to the next, until some small grain of truth emerged from the disarray.

The answer should have been simple; those who arrived in the city were stripped of certain abilities and possessions, but Whitlea exercised such temerity that she took one step further and wondered, exactly what more was purloined from the inner sanctum of self?

"It feels it often. Like something went missing. Like a little bit of the soul was removed without detection. I suppose no matter the case, 'that which has been lost cannot be recovered, only replaced'... We all arrive here flawed and incomplete, wouldn't you say?"

"Lovely night isn’t it?" November stepped over to the young lady, though he was looking up at the sky with mild interest. Ah, easy to point to his star, though not much to say for it. "If I had known we would be having such clear skies, I might have rented a telescope to remember an old friend. Can I ask how your night is fairing dear?"

The priestess smiled gently, keen blue eyes like glacial lakes turned toward the individual at her side, faltering a touch upon initial observation. Something about him left Whitlea slightly perplexed, or perhaps it was the lack thereof which planted a seed of doubt in her mind.

Where she felt his gaze she felt no heart, no discernible emotion. And this was not an unwilling sort of emptiness; his being fully embraced the void, and they seemed as one.

Regardless, Whitlea could not judge. Whether he truly traded away his spirit or not, those affairs were none of Whitlea's concern. Her only providence remained in the present, however she might interact with him now. Being an empath, she hoped her services might be of use at this time.

Tune would lift his gaze to the sky, taking in her words. She lived her life to bring happiness to others. In a way, that was also what he was doing. All he wanted was to give those who had returned freedom to him a life in which they could smile as much as they wanted. But he wasn’t so naive as to think what he had to do to reach that point brought smiles to others.

"I wish I could do something like that. It must be nice to know you’re doing something worthwhile."

Ambivalent was a force for good. At least, that’s what he wanted to believe. In their actions he saw a cover of selfishness yes. They wanted to escape their lives of being hunted, of being tested on. But that wasn’t all they were. He’d seen missions abandoned just to save people they put in harms way. At times of break, he would see the lower profile members helping people cross streets on occasion. The world saw them as terrorists, as evil. But they did what they did to make sure no one had to live as they did. So that smiles could continue for everyone else.

And they wouldn’t have saved Tune if that wasn’t the case. He’d been ‘deactivated’ when they came. Like a robot turned off, in a forced sleep until he was needed. All they had to do to rid themselves of a powerful bio-weapon was to slit his throat, or put a bullet in his brain. Even when they woke him up, without the headphones, all they had to do was leave him, and he would have died. But they took a risk, and they saved him from that life. They gave him back the power to choose. 

"Aha, thanks. But you know, I can’t really blame people for choosing normal. As long as it’s their choice. Living is to keep choosing. And you have to keep living so you can keep choosing."

A bit of a pause came at these ‘words’. These were not his own in truth. They were the words given to him in his darkest moment. But they were what he lived by. The face of the one who gave them to him passed through his mind, as the music that previously made up his ‘words’ returned to it’s original state, flowing in a melodic stream of waves and pulses through the sky. Not long after though, they would return to the ‘voice’ he created.

He posed another good point, doing something worthwhile. While her work was true and just, Whitlea always thought, in the grand scheme of things, she herself would fail to leave any mark on society. Fingerprints on the windshield of life, easily cleaned away, and priestesses usually died young as well, and she feared being forgotten and unloved when that time came.

"Oh? I'm sure you are doing something worthwhile. Just little acts of kindness touch the lives of so many others. If you're going to do something, do what makes you happy, and also things that can make others happy, without compromising either too much."

That at least held true, she loved helping people. Although her normal life was forever lost, she minded little, as the people she helped lived it in her stead. It had been her choice and her choice alone, after all.

The girl dipped into a polite curtsy and then recomposed herself, standing with all the statuesque grace and quietude of a sculptured angel.

"Hmm? Ah yes, greetings and salutations. I must admit, I've stayed here only a short while, though I have no intention of leaving. There are so many more people I wish to meet... If I'm not mistaken, I don't believe we are acquainted, are we now?"