[se] echoes of ancients

Soleil

It's not the long flowing dress that you're in
Or the light coming off of your skin

It's true that Soleil has an indomitable self-assurance, but she also considers meeting someone once a confirmed sign of friendship, and Deimos had certainly seen her far more often than that - why not get comfortable, right? Clearly everybody thinks the way she does.

"There's so much in so little space," she starts with wide eyes and an expressive face that clearly translates she hadn't necessarily been complimentary by saying that. "Everything is modern and beautiful, but people are so distant from each other. They're all just bustling about in their patterns and jobs. It doesn't have nearly the heart that Halo does." Which admittedly some people may enjoy; structure, peace, ensured anonymity. In Halo, everyone knows everyone, and if you have news then everyone has that same news - which are the downsides of course - but the aching absence of a visible community had rattled Soleil.

Taking the two lanterns he hands her, Soleil sets to work cleaning and polishing them to do something with her hands as she continues. "But their infrastructure was amazing. It's clear it's the capital - there were so many things to see and do, even official tours!" Nothing like Halo, where you'd be better off paying someone for a personal charter.

Glancing down at the lanterns she's cleaning as if envisioning her own, one shoulder shrugs slightly, sunny disposition dimming to something serious but luckily not sorrowful. "Flowers, usually. They're typical for funerals, and easy to personalize." Setting Peter's lantern down once she's satisfied with the cleanliness, she moves on to Adam's. "We died when I was really young. I remember them, but only with the mind of a child. I don't know what they would have liked, or what might represent them. And I don't want to make dad sad by asking him." He hates being reminded of the fact that Soleil remembers those final moments, remembers death's touch, in a way that Luka doesn't.

It's the fragile heart you protected for so long
The mercy in your sense of right and wrong