...You mean it, don't you. That you'd really not be anywhere else.

[The glow beneath her skin seems to pulse like a heartbeat. It's a small mercy that no wings have sprouted yet, but the suggestions of where they might ultimately be placed are dappled all over her body — her shoulders, her upper arms, her hips. For someone who so often runs around in red and black, it must be startling to see her awash in hues of gold and white.]

You would've liked Ardbert. He was handsome. And...and so sad, for so long.

[Her thoughts are wandering again; she's not being careful enough. And someone else's words slip unthinkingly back to her lips.]

It's a compliment. Take it.