week three | dates

[marriagebroker]

Here we go again.

You all better kiss.

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[poans]

[They will heal. She says it with such confidence, such faith. In the end, it all comes back to time.

In his time here, he's found others who walk paths parallel to his own. Soon those paths will diverge, and he will wander the darkness on his own again. But the others will continue to move forward as life goes on, weathering its waves.

As for him . . . he was propelled to leave the white square, only for its walls to stop him in place before he could take the leap. Will those walls remain standing forevermore? Or . . . ]

Is it truly okay . . . for me to have them?

[researcherstory]

Of course. Who says you can't?

[ No one that she knows of, but... she also does not know much about his world -- that which shaped him, tore his wings, left him as he is.

...

Regardless of that, though, Craft refers to the act of sculpting parts of the world into the shape or form one wants them to be. Therefore, it seems ludicrous to her that Yi Sang, Aventurine, Edamura, Verso -- that they can't wield their wills the same, and shape their world as they see fit. Whether by means of creation or something else. ]

[poans]

[Who, indeed? A loophole cost the League everything, and a colorless fire consumed everything he held dear. When the world forbids it, how can he fly as he once did?

Like a chicken, he flaps the remnants of his wings uselessly. Yet a flightless blimp flew, bucking the chains holding it down. All it needed . . . was the faith of those whose eyes reflected another reality.

If he can soar one last time, will it be worth the effort?

He exhales—a cleansing sigh, surrounded by the heat of the hot spring.]

[researcherstory]

[ ... It sounded like a good sigh, and so Odile closes her eyes again as she returns to "look" up at the sky.

Silence, just for a short while, before she speaks just once more. ]

There are those would be happy to see your smile, Yi Sang. I am one of them.

[poans]

My smile, you say . . .

[He is uncertain of how he feels at this moment. Between the depths of the hot spring and the rising heat, he finds himself nigh weightless with an odd sensation in his chest as if the water is running straight through him. The proper words to convey escape him even now, but he knows this much:]

. . . I thank you, Miss Odile.