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[narcissithstic]

HATRED all will suffer for their crimes.	SERVICE within it, glory beyond measure.
CONTROL chaos brought to heel through pain.	FEAR failure, weakness, mediocrity...

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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[erbier]

( Come. )

[ She's there like she always is, dressed in white with bare feet, her blonde hair down around her shoulders. It is comfortable to finally have cast off the trappings of 'Saffron' but even having done so... she is not quite the same as before they left. She's growing up, growing into her new life, its new rules, its opportunities. Something in the way she holds hers, the look in her eyes.

She leaves off pruning down a shrub to join him when he appears. ]

Are you glad to be returned?

[narcissithstic]

I don't know.

[Black— the only color he ever seems to love. He turns up in it with a weariness that's settled down into the marrow of his bones, thin-skinned and overfull. Where she flourishes, he wanes.

He has lost much.]

Are you?

[erbier]

Yes. It is quiet here, solemn.

[ If she had her way, she wouldn't leave again. They would let her stay in the garden, where she was happy. She has accepted, however, that they will send her out again. Perhaps, sometimes, it is worthwhile not to get her way. She is coming around to the concept of it, as she learns more and more. ]

I disliked Concordia. I'm happy to be done with them.

[narcissithstic]

[Pacing warily between rows of flourishing plantlife, he regards her contentment with little of his own.] And yet neither Cathaway nor Prince seem happy for us to have returned.

[What did you expect, Ren, fanfare?]

[erbier]

[ She lets him pace for now, keeping her finger on the pulse of his restlessness, lest she need to intervene in it. ]

Do you need them to be?