[rp] 🥒 キュー - birds-of-a-feather

12 hours is a long break, but sometimes it feels like it’s not long enough. Celia is restless, walking around the upper part of the piano room, arranging books and peering through a broken telescope. Eventually, her stomach growls. Maybe grabbing food at this late hour would ease her restlessness. So, she quickly makes her way to the exit, down the small ladder, and delicately climbed and dropped her way down the tall tree. She didn’t care to take her mask with her this time, considering it to be a quick trip to and from the kitchen. Her hood should be fine. Tiptoe, tiptoe. Celia slips past an array of doors, passing through a pair that swung open almost at her command. Fluorescent lights buzzed on to illuminate the room — a few cooking stations, a round counter, cabinets and sinks along the wall, and two fridges side by side. There wasn’t much to eat for now. She knew in the fridge was mostly what was left after dinners or from company budgeting - few snacks. So Celia figured she’d try to make a meal. Some bread, any meat edible enough to fill a small stomach, cheese… It’s too late for a gourmet meal, so this should suffice.

For Sinclair, nights aren't entirely a source of comfort. Especially ones such as this, where there is ample free time. Even if he may not make it audible, he appreciated the distraction provided by his raucous coworkers. In the later hours of the night however, there's no shouting or painful wounds. No need to feel the blood rush to your fingers as you clamp on tight to your weapons. Now, there is only silence. The dreadful quiet accompanied by thoughts of everything that was ever lost. Try as he might, his mind cannot help but fill with thoughts of his life prior to Limbus Company, and the painful scenes that led up to it. Sinclair's heart quickens in pace, and he feels his breath catch in his throat. He wouldn't be falling asleep now, and he'd only feel more miserable trapped in his room. It wouldn't be much, but a short trip to get some water may be enough to soothe his spirit. Keeping his footsteps as quiet as can be, he snakes out of his room and saunters towards the kitchen.

An itemized list of ingredients brewed in her mind. She could add a side, or try and squeeze some of the fruits they were lucky enough to afford recently to make some juice cocktail, leaving enough for those who needed a quick refresher. Where did they even get these? She pulled out a pan. Turned on one of the eyes of the stove on a rusting kitchenette, pretended it was just another performance. Celia wasn’t an excellent cook— being comatose for years isn’t exactly helpful with developing life skills, but some of her coworkers were kind enough to spare some evenings letting her assist in the kitchen. Ishmael says to butter the pan, butter my bread, and to butter my senses. Celia sighed. She followed the advice to a T, arranging the elements of her sandwich and preparing to toast it. She wasn’t even paying attention to any external sounds any longer - there shouldn’t be any, as she recollected to herself. That also meant she was blissfully unaware of Sinclair soon coming to the kitchen to join the midnight escapade.

Just as he got to the door he heard the noises of another occupant within the kitchen. Huh. I thought most people would be asleep by now... Sinclair couldn't quite figure out who the mystery sinner was. He tried to run the list. Most would be sleeping by now, and those that may be awake are probably busying themselves with other things. Maybe Rodya? It's no secret that she likes her food. If anything, this eased Sinclair a little. Being able to talk to someone would kill some time till he felt tired enough to sleep. Gingerly, he opens the door, keeping himself sotto voce "Rodya..? Are you still up at th-" Sinclair cuts himself short as he notices a distinctly not Rodya-Shaped figure in the place he assumed her to be.

The second he spoke, Celia jumped — if she were any amount stronger, she would’ve hit the ceiling with such a reaction. They made eye contact for a brief second. Although her hood concealed the clarity of her face through shadow, Celia still didn’t have a mask on and it was clear that that was just her face. Oh no. Her right hand grabbed the sizzling pan to take it off the stove, holding it away from her body. Celia then used her left hand to swipe a knife off the counter and quickly point it towards Sinclair, perpendicular to her body. She made sure that her face wasn’t seen further, only the side of her white and red-striped hooded cloak. “…” Not the optimal response, but we’ll take it.

Sinclair feels his heart jump to his throat as the scene plays out. He was far from prepared for anything that had occured, and took just about all his restraint to avoid crying out at the sudden knife pointed at him. He raised his hands as if in surrender, and spoke to her with hushed urgency. "C-Celia! It's just me. It's just me, Sinclair. Lets... uh... not do anything hasty. Right?" Sinclair nervously clamped his teeth down on his tongue. It's not to say that Sinclair hated any of his coworkers, but he was certainly a lot closer to some compared to the others. Celia fell in the latter case. Although a calm demeanor was a nice change of pace, it also carried a somewhat cold presence. Not to mention her mask. It was kind of creepy, and reminded him of the dolls that accompanied the Doomsday Calendar abnormality, whose E.G.O he was all too familiar with as well. Suddenly it clicked for Sinclair. She wasn't wearing her mask. For what felt like the shortest of moments, their eyes locked. Although it was impossible for him to make out the distinct features, he was certain that it had happened. Regardless, he was certain that the last thing either party would want would to be incurring the ire of Vergilius for causing a commotion in the small hours of the day. He was almost certain he could get out of this situation without needing any touchups from Dante later.

Upon hearing him speak, her shaking hand slowly lowered the knife. Celia carefully placed it down on the counter, pushing her palm directly on the tile. “…” He didn’t see anything, right? No, of course not. That mattered to her. Only those she really trusted could look at her, and Sinclair was definitely not one of them. Nothing against him - in fact, Celia found him to be rather pleasant in comparison to most others. However, that was still not a metric of trust. Quietly, she kept her head low while trying to resume her cooking. Her left hand now started pulling the fabric to shield whatever could be seen of her face without completely obstructing her view. “…” “…Sorry.” With a voice as soft and sweet as a cat’s meow, Celia murmured her sheepish apology while trying to grab a plate and flip her late night meal onto it. That apology, at least, was one of the first few words Celia’s ever directly spoken to Sinclair.

Sinclair was able to breathe a sigh of relief when she finally put down the knife. He couldn't help but find it odd that he would be so afraid to get hurt. To die. Even though it felt like at this point it was a fleeting afterthought, after dying countless times over, he could never truly be comfortable with the idea of the deep cold of nothingness, only to have himself torn from it just as suddenly. Pushing aside those thoughts, he was able to focus better on his surroundings. It seems like Celia had also come searching for something, although in this case sought a meal as opposed to the quick drink of water Sinclair was planning to get. It wasn't hard to grasp that the last thing Celia wanted would be Sinclair looking at her face. He awkwardly shuffled around the kitchen, trying to keep his head in the other direction of her, fumbling with a paper cup to fill with water. As he sipped the cool water he found himself wanting to seize the opprotunity of conversation. Even if this wasn't his first choice of company, it definitely wasn't his last. And besides, he may as well kill two birds with one stone and try to get to know his fellow Sinner better. "I-It's fine. Um... couldn't sleep either, yeah?" As Sinclair spoke, he kept his gaze fixed to the floor, as if he was suddenly concerned with the color of his shoes.

ah. A conversation. Celia’s not much of a speaker. In fact, it’s known that she’s one of the most silent sinners, not even speaking when spoken to. To hear her voice is a miracle, let alone have her directly face you. Taking the toasted sandwich sitting on a half-bent plate in one hand, Celia sat on one of the stools that was near the counters lining a central island. She tried to speak. “Yeah. The night is always tough.” Progress, definitely. She slid the knife over to her and cut the sandwich diagonally, holding one half delicately between her gloved fingers. “…What keeps you up?”

To hear her voice was a good sign. At least, that's what Sinclair thought. Although her question was a bit troubling. The list of things on his mind was rather daunting at the present time. And it's not like it'd be right to burden anyone else with it. She's gone now. The whistles he hears aren't real. There's no cackling in the wind, and there's no figures in the shadows. Kromer should be a distant memory. But her grip was always so tight on his mind. "...Just things that are in the past now. Not worth fussing over, but I still find myself thinking about it." Sinclair refills his cup of water and takes another long drink. "How about you? Just hungry? Or something else keeping you awake?" (edited)

“Don’t remember.” Such a simply poised answer. Truthfully, if anything was bothering her, she doesn’t care to give it enough attention to be figured out. It could be the lack of memory, the nagging of others to speak, or the feeling that she doesn’t wish to be in her room for long. Celia shrugged a little. If she was gonna have a substantial interaction — now that she’s been thrust into it — she might as well speak a little more. Out of everyone, Sinclair seemed to be least likely to brag about his achievement of hearing more than 10 words from Celia. “…It’s okay, though. It won’t bother me for long. Just hungry, now.”

"Ah... alright." Sinclair wasn't entirely sure how to interpret her response, but given how little he knows of Celia it'd be best to take her answers at face value. The topic of the conversation was a bit gloom, and felt as if it was dangerously close to open up old wounds, so Sinclair took his best efforts to steer away from it now that seemingly she was engaged in their little chat. "I didn't know you could cook." Right as the words came out of his mouth, internally Sinclair felt the desire to slump down on the floor. You barely know anything about her, stupid! "I tried my hand at it... once. It wasn't the most fruitful effort though..."

The more Celia spoke, the more it became clear she was simply parroting out answers that seemed to be as simple as possible. She wasn’t overly wordy, nor was she someone of much significant character — perhaps that was what made her stand out, besides her unusual accessories. “I didn’t at first. Not much one can do in their sleep.” She tilted her head up, vaguely facing Sinclair’s direction while still being careful to hide her face. “Meursault teaches me now.” The implications of her statement weigh heavy on her. She admitted she didn’t know much, but not the reason why — this would be the first time she’s mentioned it so casually, as if recalling a simple memory. “Ask him, maybe. To teach you.”

"I see..." Sinclair found that Celia seemed to lack... personality, for lack of a better descriptor. She seemed keen on answers that would satisfy whatever prompt given to her, and nothing more. It's no wonder she is able to get along with the most esoteric sinner among them. "I'll probably look into it as a personal endeavor... I'm sure Meursault's busy anyway..." It felt odd to try and hold a conversation with someone he couldn't look at. From a young age his parents had drilled into his head that there was a proper way for everything. A proper way to eat. A proper way to walk. A proper way to speak. It felt alien to actively avoid eye contact. "How has work been treating you? There's nothing too troublesome, I hope?"

“…” His persistence on talking was almost frustrating. Normally, she doesn’t speak this much outside of routine counseling sessions. However, this might be a one-off moment, so she might as well give as much thought as her brain could muster. “Do you need to ask a question like that? It’d be the same for you… but…” She gulped. Would it? Celia didn’t ever have to really ponder how she felt about anything — it all fell under if she remembered or if she didn’t. But right now, she’s thinking somewhat deeper. “…I think I enjoy it. It’s — simple, I don’t need to remember anything.”

"I think you're right about that... there's no time to think in a fight. It's kind of nice... t-to forget about everything. I suppose there isn't much more stress relieving than cutting up abnormalities either..." Sinclair catches himself from rambling further. While it is a bit embarrassing that it feels like he's dragging this conversation by the heels, he was very grateful as well to her for humoring him, even if it was just a matter of circumstance. But there was one thing above all else Sinclair was curious about involving Celia. He wanted to know why she had gotten so worked up about the idea of Sinclair seeing her without the mask on. Granted, he was no stranger to being threatened with his life, but he hadn't expected it from her. He bit down on his tongue again with trepidation, contemplating if he should even pop the question, let alone the fact that she would give him an answer.

“Yeah. I need that, sometimes.” Something about how she spoke with such a monotone voice felt nearly unsettling, like speaking to a shell of a person. Celia ate between her comments, staring down at her small meal and examining what she liked or disliked. The cheese is not melted enough, but the ham is hot. Did I heat the pan too fast? Maybe I should use mayo instead of butter to coat the bread…. Pondering such deep thoughts about a mundane food, Celia twirled the plate with one finger idly. Her mind ran surprisingly blank, as if no thoughts existed there at all. What a difficult partner to converse with.

"I.. uh... Celia. I was wondering... how come you aren't wearing your mask? I've never seen you without it. Or... well I guess it wouldn't be very easy to eat with a mask on. I guess I was just... surprised by how you reacted when I came in. Is there a reason you didn't want me to see your face?" Sinclair felt like he was walking on thin ice on already uncertain ground. He was hoping that he could inch towards the question, rather than hitting her with it face on. He felt guilty for asking something so direct and surely personal, but could not deny that her reaction had piqued his curiosity.

“Uhm.” She choked up on her words again. Perhaps it was bringing up things her brain didn’t quite yet want to remember, or just her attempt at forming a response he’d understand. “Uhm, I.” She bites her tongue. How to explain this, the thought runs through her head over and over. Does she even know what she’s trying to say? “I didn’t think anyone else was awake. This would be 5 minutes, in and out.” Well, that answered one piece of it. She rubbed her nose with her knuckle, unsure of even why she was so concerned about Sinclair seeing her face — it’s not like she’s disfigured, or insecure about her looks. Perhaps it was the principle. But she wasn’t gonna say that. “I just… I don’t want anyone to see me. No offense. I’d rather hide.”

After hearing her response Sinclair couldn't help but wish that she did actually stab him, to save the both of them this situation. He internally chided himself for even daring to ask. "N-no, I understand. Don't worry. I... kind of get where you're coming from. N-not about the mask thing, of course! But I have a preference as well... I try to keep my gloves on at all times." Sinclair lets out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to come in on you without your mask. Nor drag you into this conversation. I owe you the apology... and my thanks."

“It’s okay,” Celia replied quietly. His sudden outburst mildly irritated her. However, it’s not like they intended to cross paths. It just… happened. Celia wasn’t gonna complain. “Mmmm,” she hummed Celia stood and quietly made her way over to the trash can, dropping the plate in delicately. She then carefully cleaned up her area. Part of her wished to inquire about his preference — however, the rudeness of the idea kept Celia’s mouth shut. “It’s not wrong to be curious.”

Sinclair was relieved for her forgiveness, even if he was still embarrassed by his own impulsiveness. Sinclair was contemplating just retreating to his room, although he'd likely have to wait for her to leave first, as to avoid any chance of him seeing her face again. "I guess you're right..." Sinclair was wringing his hands together. He was unsure how to proceed with Celia, given that it was unlikely she wanted to speak to him in the first place. Maybe it'd be best just to let her leave? It's not like trying to waste some time was an entirely fruitless effort. Sinclair racked his mind, searching for answers.

She seemed to turn directly to him, face shrouded in the darkness by her hood. Celia tilted her head. “Your room doesn’t look too comfy. Is that also keeping you up?” She asked, fingers tracing the edge of the pocket watch around her neck. She’s simply asking out of curiosity. Perhaps if he answered affirmatively, she’d invite him to explore the vastness of her room. She lets others visit, either to gawk at the size of the tree or peruse the books in the library — a small break to let another rest easily wouldn’t hurt her. (edited)

(She tilted my head so evil.(silly)) "Yeah... it's empty. Uncomfortably so. Nor do I like what it reveals about me..." Sinclair says the last part with some uncharacteristic venom to it. Having even his own room remind him about everything he wishes to forget is only a source of displeasure for him. "But I guess I can't really get away from that. How about your room? Is it to your liking at least?"

(( rizna makes a typo real )) “It’s… large. And familiar.” She clasped her hands together, holding them near her chest. Celia pondered to herself — well, she knew an extent of what he had gone through, but not enough to understand the contents of his room … or what little she saw of it. “I find it calming until the place shakes, and the sky crumbles —“ The thought made Celia shiver. “— uhm. Would you like to see?”

"Eh?" Sinclair had to do a double take. She was inviting him in? This was an unexpected development. "O-oh... alright. I'll come." He wasn't sure entirely what to expect. Sinclair seldom entered the expansion of Mephistopheles, let alone lingered around long enough to gaze at the rooms of the Sinners that were lined up within it. Still, the idea was rather interesting, and Sinclair took it as an indication that he hadn't gotten on her bad side despite the various missteps he may have taken since the start of their interaction, which he was grateful for.

“Mm. Good.” There was no way he could truly get on her bad side — but Celia offered the kind gesture on the front of it helping Sinclair, and possibly easing his curiosity. She nodded. Making her way towards the kitchen’s exit, the doors slid open with a careful whirring to let Celia pass. The cloth of her cloak dragged behind her like the train of a dress, giving her a larger appearance than her short stature could attribute. She stayed silent, just walking towards her half of the bus. Her door wasn’t too far, being #16 meant only a few others came before. Before she opened the door, she turned back to Sinclair — just to see if he was still nearby.

Sinclair was a few steps behind her. He gives her a small, yet warm smile when she turns to face him. "I don't think I've been in anyone else's room before... well, save for Don Quixote's." Sinclair kept his voice down to a whisper, so as to avoid disturbing those who may be sleeping. It was rare for the bus to be this quiet, which only added to list of odd things that were occurring tonight for him. "Thank you for inviting me..." Sinclair mumbled out his brief thanks. He found himself apologizing and thanking a lot tonight, but courtesy never hurt.

Celia nodded. No need to answer. She opened the door slowly, and the environment seemed to unfold itself. A room with a shallow pool of water at the bottom, and lots of greenery in different spots. Upon looking up, the ceiling felt unreachable -- this was definitely the tallest room in all of Mephistopheles, and it seemed to be a miracle that such an expansive space could exist. At the bottom of the central tree was a piano enwrapped in the tree's roots, as if having forcibly grown and split the tree into the two stalks that stretched to the roof. Celia walked forward, carefully treading across the shallow water. Two doors were on the left and right of the tree, one of them ajar and leaking light into the room from what appeared to be a library. Celia took a small scroll off the top of the piano's keys, storing it within her sleeve. "This is it." This wasn't it, as there were many rooms to explore, but Celia wasn't going to elaborate.

Sinclair couldn't hide the look of bewilderment on his face as he walked in. He was no stranger to the interior of Mephistopheles defying his comprehension of the laws of space, but this was practically a different beast. As he crossed the water, he grabbed the tail end of his coat to prevent it from getting wet. Still, it was nice. While the tree somewhat reminded him of his room, that is likely where the similarities end. It was a far-cry from the half lit and bare room he occupied. "It's beautiful here... hard to believe it's not a scene torn from a storybook." Sinclair cast his eyes around the room, taking in the spectacle of it all.

As the door closed behind the two of them, Celia lowered her hood and kept her back to Sinclair. Delicate chestnut hair, fluffy and light, fell from the fabric. She shuddered -- likely not used to the feeling of her hair constantly brushing the back of her neck. Behind the piano was a small bookshelf of her items and various books she's collected, but tucked between them was her mask. Carefully, pushing two separate pieces closer together, she put on the mask to conceal her face. Celia turned back to Sinclair. "Mm. Thanks..." Even if her face was hidden, it wasn't hard to tell she was giving a small smile.

Sinclair was glad to see her finally face him again, even if still under the guise of her mask. It was actually rather heartwarming to be on the receiving end of her smile. Sinclair pointed towards the piano. "Oh! A piano? I wasn't aware you played. I used to... hm." Sinclair cuts himself off, but continues to eye the piano. As far as he knew, the contents of the room were somehow related to ones E.G.O, as he had often seen the branch of knowledge lain about within the division of light and darkness in his room. He personally could not fathom most of it, but what he did know was that even looking at the piano caused his heart to ache a little.

“I do. I was taught… by… someone.” A face popped up in her mind, but it was hazy. The memory of someone important, but not so much they are clear in her mind… Celia’s mind clouded while trying to push away the recollection. Failing to remember who or what brought the instrument to her, Celia’s voice cracked. She swallowed, turning away and quietly hoisting herself up onto one of the branches of the left side of the tree. To get to a decent place to rest that wasn’t in the overgrown and off-access basement, they’d have to climb. So, Celia held part of the tree and looked down at Sinclair. “Uhm… Can you climb?”

"O-oh? Climb? Sure. I can do that." Sinclair looked up at the tree. It would be one hell of a climb, that's for sure. No matter how far he craned his neck, it just didn't stop going up. He did his best to follow her lead, finding a branch near him, and pulling himself on it.

She nodded. Thank goodness she didn’t have to carry another person again. Celia seemed to be a natural at this, but she was taking an easier route up the tree. Any moment Sinclair gave signs he needed a break, she’d stop and take a few moments to let him gather himself. Though, the moment they were nearing the ladder poking out of a thick bunch of leaves and branches, Celia quickly hoisted herself up to the stone platform landing on the next floor. A hand was held out. “Grab on. I got you.”

(again

) "G-got it." Sinclair was a little exhausted by the unexpected workout, but he was in the home stretch. And the last thing he wanted now was to fall and become a stain on the floor. Sinclair extended a gloved hand, and grabbed onto hers.

(some people are bad at climbing…) She took his hand in hers, pulling him up with her. “Please rest.” It was surprising to think past the thick greenery was yet another floor. A door was binded shut by thorned vines, while another was open into a small room with a telescope - and what appeared to function as Celia’s bedroom. Various framed photographs were on the walls and doorframes, depicting an obscured figure and a very young Celia. There were also sheets of music plastered on the walls, some complete and others nearing blank. Celia walked into the open door, moving the broken telescope and pushing a pile of books besides a bookshelf. “…hm…” As if remembering a puzzle, a few of the lampposts between shelves were turned off, before one of the bookshelves sank into the wall to reveal a small sage cushion to function as a makeshift bed. “There.”

The view from the top to the bottom was daunting, Sinclair understanding the truth in why people say not to look down. Although, he felt a twinge of pride in himself for climbing all the way up, even if he had to stop to rest a few times. Sinclair watched the scene unfold with curiosity and interest, like a child watching fireworks for the first time. "A-amazing! I hadn't known a room like this could exist on the bus. You really are something else..." He couldn't hide the smile on his face, as he was rather enamored with the complexities of the room.

Celia could feel her face get a little red from shyness at his amazement. She wasn’t particularly amazed by the room — she spent a long time in this place, even if the version Mephistopheles contained was a mere mimic meant to remind her of the depths of her mind she shuts out. Surprisingly, even she was somewhat amazed that many of the secrets were kept the same — Celia almost felt filled with a sense of wonder, desiring to see what else was the same. In her quiet mess of sheepishness, Celia let out a soft laugh. Was she entertained by this? Certainly. “Ah. Sorry,” she quietly murmured while quickly moving to pick up the books that were strewn about the floor.

"N-No, you haven't done anything wrong! Promise!" Hearing Celia laugh was something he never thought he'd hear. It was gentle, not grating, and reminded him of his sister's in a way. Hm. Sinclair joined in to help her clean up the books that were laid out across the floor.

As he helped her, she guided him on where each book went — truthfully, it was a random spot, as most of them were full of blank pages besides the ones she would stuff music sheets into. Celia picked up one book with a paper sticking out. She gently took it, staring at the contents. It was another obfuscated photo, but it appeared to be hand-drawn. Celia carefully placed it back in the book’s pages before she could ruminate on it. She turned back to Sinclair and gave a polite bow as a thanks. Quietly, she sat upon a bed that could only fit her, adorned with simple sheets and a small cat plush with a seamed mouth. “Thank you.”

Sinclair gave a polite nod. "It was no issue. I'm kind of envious, I wish my room were as comfortable as this. Although I could do without the climbing..." Sinclair looked upon the various photographs that adorned the walls and doorframes. "Oh? Are these you? And... someone else..." It was hard for Sinclair to make out the other figure, it was as if the image was blurred, but localized solely on this mysterious figure.

“…” It was as if Celia didn’t want to answer. It was no doubt that the little girl in the photos was her, in her happy and norml childhood. She could only really nod, choosing not to gaze near the photographs. Her eyes fixated past the railing by the edge of the room, peering into a void she could not dream of filling. Whoever that person was, must’ve been important — but forgotten, or erased. But it wasn’t anything Celia could really figure out right now.

Sinclair could feel he was reaching a sensitive subject, and stopped pressing the matter. But still... these types of photos. You didn't take them with just anyone. Whomever this person was, they are, or were someone to Celia. Even if now they were perfect strangers. "I'm sorry." Sinclair couldn't find any other words to say. He knew these feelings. And he knew that words wouldn't be enough to cure them. But sometimes it's words, the vibrations in the throat, that is all we can offer.

As he spoke, she turned back to him and tilted her head. How delicate that response was — and how apologetic Sinclair was tonight. “…It’s okay. I’m not sure who that is anymore.” Celia pushed her back to the wall of the bed, motioning for Sinclair to rest where she had opened the cushion for him. “Let’s just — sleep. The break will be over soon.”

(DIDNT MEAN TO SEND IT YET)

7:40 PM

Wordlessly, Sinclair laid down upon the cushion. It was soft and comfy. Maybe he could sleep tonight. It was different though. Comforting even. For once, the other figure in the room was real. The noises that passed were not laughter or whistles. There was no division of light and darkness. And above all else, for once he was atop the tree, instead of cowering in its shadow. What would he have said here? "You're doing good... you're stronger than you think... I'm proud..." Sinclair silently cursed himself. He meant what he said. He just wished he could say it with more resolve. That his reassurance could carry more weight than his meek voice.

This sight was one she was used to. Perhaps Celia felt a bit of solace in having another warmth here. It was like how it was the first time she got here - just herself for a while, until someday someone else showed up. She kept those events and memories locked behind, but Sinclair was mirroring everything that happened. The apologies, the wonder at the space, even questioning those photos and what they meant. Celia found it bothersome, because she couldn’t recall anything — she didn’t want to. She felt relieved that now, she could drift to sleep. A small escapade wasn’t harmful — in fact, this one was productive. Celia slowly removed her mask, placing it next to her pillow and laying down. “…” No response, of course, but she sighed and smiled to herself. It was - surprisingly - easy for Celia to fall asleep now.

Sinclair took in one last deep breath before closing his eyes. Even if he had to force them shut, he knew it would be better to sleep now. Being tired means being sloppy. And being sloppy means you might find yourself being revived more often than you'd like. It felt like ages, but finally Sinclair found himself lulled to sleep, completely still save for the gentle movements of his chest when he breathes.

Not even dreams where wholly a reprieve for Sinclair. Usually they were filled with things he wish he could forget, and voices he wish would stay dead. Sometimes, after using a certain mirror ID, they would be even worse. But tonight there was no cause for concern. It was like the way a child sleeps with a nightlight, where the minute illumination from the small bulb is enough to ease their worries. In this way simply the presence of Celia was enough for Sinclair to have a restful slumber. As his eyes cracked open and he stretched the stiffness out of his body, Sinclair recalled the memories of the night before. ... Sinclair admonished himself for still thinking this way. But he couldn't help but pray every night when he opened his eyes, that he would be greeted by the ceiling of the room he slept in all his life. Maybe tomorrow he would wake up from this nightmare. He was unsure of what time it was, but it would be better to arise now than risk being late. Sinclair went to go rouse his companion from her slumber, but was stunned. Celia had forgone her mask while she was sleeping, and for the first time ever, he finally was able to see the face of his companion. But there was nothing wrong with her face. No horrible disfigurement or deformity. Just another person, who was all too tired. (edited)

The way she slept was delicate. Like in a sweet dream, Celia was softly breathing and almost curled up into a fetal position. Her face was delicate, almost lacking the callousness or emptiness her personality gives. It was one of the few moments she felt peace - but still, only a moment. Upon her waking up, it was a simple process. Turn, rub the eyes, stretch…. Open those eyes up to another person looking down at her exposed face. This time, she couldn’t even muster the strength to quickly cover her face. She just sat there, staring at Sinclair like a deer in headlights. Well— there went all of that trouble of trying to keep her face hidden.

Sinclair quickly turned red when he realized he was caught staring. It was innocent curiosity, and ordinarily he would not allow himself to be impulsive like this, but he was still shaking off the drowsiness that clouded his judgement. "I-I... wasn't..." Sinclair snapped his head away, covering his face with his hands, which did little to hide how flustered he was. "I-I didn't mean... to see it. I just wanted... to wake you up. I.. um.." Sinclair was starting to wish he could just melt down into nothing to avoid the shame of this situation.

“…” Slowly, she simply took the mask and put it over her face. Celia sat up and moved off of the bed, making it without a sound. Beneath the mask, though, her face was red. The only other person to have seen Celia’s full face was Rodya, who wiped her tears away when Celia began crying from fear after experiencing her first death. Now, Sinclair was the second. Did Celia say anything? No, she couldn’t really make a reaponse. All she did was simply act like it didn’t happen, letting the embarrassment and anxiety stew deep within her. He wouldn’t tell anyone, right…?

She totally hates me. If she pushed me off this tree I wouldn't even be mad at her. I'm so stupid. Sinclair couldn't bring himself to even open his mouth outside of belting out another storm of apologies. He kept his face covered instead, the shame practically making his brain boil. Feeling his own face heat up however, he got an idea. Slowly Sinclair peeled his hands off his head, and awkwardly faced her again, trying to speak without sounding like he was mere moments from keeling over. "H-Hey... um... C-Celia..."

The shame in his voice was palpable. Celia turned back silently — head tilted as if to acknowledge his calling for her. “Hm?” What, was he going to make some comment about how empty her expression was? Or try and rationalize what happened, apologizing profusely? Truthfully, she intended to be forgiving. If it were someone like Heathcliff or Ryoshu, she wouldn’t have hesitated to knock them to the ground and throw them on top of the piano. Even if it got damaged, it’d repair itself regardless. But this was Sinclair. She was willing to listen, especially as he was kind enough to try and save face in the moment.

Sinclair tried to rationalize his thoughts, as embarrassing as it was for him. He had to control his breathing and steel himself, but eventually he worked up the nerve. His hands were shaking, making the task all the more difficult, but he managed to peel off one of his black gloves, exposing his hand to the elements. "I...It'd only be fair... right?" Sinclair felt a bit uncomfortable to have these gloves off in front of another person. Even in his nightmares, his palms were covered, his hands hidden away from the world. It makes us even. I hope.

She stepped forward. “You didn’t have to.” Celia removed her own gloves — she didn’t need them quite yet either way, but her next move made that action feel appropriate. She quietly took his hand in both of hers, holding it as delicately as possible. She intertwined their fingers, gently squeezed his palm — all trying to be very gentle. Then, she bowed down a little and brushed the top of Sinclair’s hand against her mask. It was like an attempt to offer a polite kiss to the hand, but all that could be felt was the coldness of the porcelain mask.

Sinclair took on the hue of a tomato, as even if it wasn't done proper, the gesture was still felt. He couldn't even bring himself to look directly at her, turning his head to the side. It felt unnatural to have the warmth of another in his hands. But it felt right. The way the fingers could lock into one another, the way the palms laid flat against the other. It made Sinclair wonder, just how long had he missing something he hadn't known he needed?

When she finished, she held his hand just a bit longer before letting go. Celia could feel that Sinclair might explode if they held hands any longer. “Thank you,” she whispered. Celia put her gloves back on, holding her hands close to her chest. How sweet. She felt her heart pound a little, realizing that they were even.

"Y-yeah. Um... no problem.." Sinclair slipped his glove back on as well, his heart beating a bit faster than he'd like to admit. "Maybe we... should get ready then. I wouldn't want us to get in trouble..."

"Hm. Right." Celia ducked her head down and put on her hood, taking Sinclair's hand to halfway-drag him out of the room. She lowered herself onto a sturdy branch. After finding solid footing, she lifted her arms up as if to catch Sinclair in the case he were to fall. "The way down's a lot easier," she clarified quietly. "But I got you." What a ... kind gesture. Part of her wished it was early enough that no one was awake -- not that there'd be much questioning, but she perhaps felt somewhat sheepish about the prospect of someone noticing Sinclair leaving Celia's room. Their chances right now should be slim.

“I-I’m sure I can mind my footing… but it’s rather relieving to know you’ll have my back…” Sinclair had to hold his breath during the descent. She was right, it was a lot easier to go down than up, but every time he had to look for his next foothold, he would catch sight of the daunting fall should he slip. It made his hairs stand on end just thinking about the fall should he lose balance. The idea of getting caught leaving Celia’s room was a bit awkward. There would be no doubt about it that some Sinners would take much joy in the opportunity to poke fun. But even if they should get caught, he could tolerate the shame for the sake of this moment.

As the two made their way to the ground floor, Celia stepped forward and lead sinclair to the door. She didn’t cross it, as she needed a bit more time to prepare herself. For a moment, she choked up. Felt a lump in her throat, as if she was dreading ending this moment and saying goodbye again - even if they were going to the same place. “…” “…” “…Wait.” Celia paused, holding Sinclair’s wrist before he would be able to leave just yet.

"A-ah?" Sinclair stopped when Celia grabbed onto him. It's strange how the moment her fingers locked around his wrists, he was as stiff as a statue. It's not that her grip was particularly powerful in this moment, but it seemed to hold Sinclair so strongly. "I-Is something wrong, Celia?" Sinclair felt his cheeks grow a little rosy, but also was confused as to what she held him up for. Maybe she forgot something at the top of the tree? Or was it something else? He continued to work the scenarios through his head, but couldn't find a concrete conclusion.

Celia paused for a moment. She was stunlocked, just shaking gently. Her heart pounded — she really wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But, she had to, and he’d definitely think she was a little weird for just holding him back for a second. With her head turned down, she pulled the other sinner in for a brief embrace. It was careful and delicate, but deeply heartfelt. “… I hope you feel better.” “And…” “Thank you.” After she spoke, she let go of him and turned around. Celia wasn’t gonna face those difficult feelings, just let them pass.

Even after the embrace ended, Sinclair stood paralyzed and wide-eyed. It was not like there was an absence of hugs or affection in Sinclair's life, but it felt like it had been so long since he last experienced it, that it was purifying. For so long now Sinclair was horrified, that he had become something unworthy of loving. He was a coward. So afraid, again and again. Too afraid to face himself, to accept the evil within. Too afraid of the times his sense of self was dominated by an E.G.O. Too afraid of the selves that lied within the mirror. Too afraid of blood on his hands. Sinclair felt powerless as tears dribbled down his face. It was cleansing. Every tear containing vitriol and hatred, resentment and rage that he wished to keep away from the world. But here it was safe. The tears would never be seen again once they land within the shallow pool. A chance to pretend things were ok again. (edited)

Goodbyes were always hard. Celia couldn't even figure out why this one hurt -- was it because she had a moment with someone that wasn't her being babied, just her helping someone out? It was like a new piece of Celia briefly unlocked. And now, she was having to go back to her usual quiet self, but she was longing for that connection to remain. Perhaps she'd invite him another night, playing some of the songs she's found the sheets to. Maybe she'll sit under the tree in his room, reading a book and hearing his story. Celia didn't quite remember what story she could tell him -- perhaps it would be of her dream, but it'd reveal too much. She was dwelling too deep into her mind. It was starting to ache. Celia gave a slight dismissive wave from behind, feeling a wave of some new, unfamiliar feeling wash over her.

Sinclair wiped the tears from his face, trying to make it look like he hadn't become a weeping mess just before the door. "Thank you..." His voice was small when he spoke, still trembling. He ought to head back to his room and freshen up before the morning round-up. It'd likely be another busy day of whatever they would need to fight, but at this point Sinclair was more than used to this line of work. He slipped out of the room, moving with relative haste to return to the half of the bus his room presided in. As soon as he opened the door he was greeted by the familiar sights. The divide of darkness and light, the floor of dead leaves that never cleared no matter how many times he cleaned it, the lone seat that remained in the darkness. And of course, the shadow of the tree that didn't exist physically. The serpent that coils so tightly. Crushing the tree in its vice grip. And yet it is never to reach that fruit it aims for. There wasn't much that Sinclair needed to right about himself, but he tried to look the best he could before they were due.

Celia sighed as he left the room. She removed her mask, staring into the water below. Her normally empty eyes were welling with tears, tears she couldn't explain. Part of her felt an urge to pretend she was happy, although still not quite sure what "happy" would be for her. She waded into the library, sitting at the desk and staring at the massive book that held endless notes of the world outside -- from simple things like how trees grow, to complex things such as the intricacies of a fixer's life. The page she was fixated on, it only had images of brains and skulls, and words she couldn't quite read. She felt scared to ask anyone else more qualified, but knew that the pages were important. From a drawer were withdrawn the few things she needed to get ready. Exchanging the cloak and shirt for pieces of her uniform, placing the stopwatch in that drawer to take out her ID tag. "..." When she felt she was ready, she put the mask back on and waded her way to the front of the bus, sitting in the back as she was designated to. Turns out Celia was one of the first, only being met with the cold gazes of Faust and her half-asleep lackey.

Sinclair took his time getting ready. As much as the silence irked him, it was one of the few moments of peace he would be experiencing today. The only sound accompanying his footsteps as he meandered around his room was the crunching of dead leaves when he entered the dimmer half of his room. Once he finally had his hair settled and his attire as proper as it could look, he readjusted the clip of his ID card. The Sinclair in that photo looked like it was from lifetimes ago. With Vogel in hand, Sinclair was one foot out the door before he looked back one more time. And what should happen, if the snake ever satisfies its hunger? A few of the more duteous sinners were already here. Meursault, Faust, Outis, and Ishmael of his original companions had already assumed their seats. While in the extended row he identified a few faces as well. He wasn't quite well acquainted with the whole of them, but they were tolerable at worst, which is the best Sinclair could hope for. It was easy enough to make out Celia. Her mask did not exactly make her inconspicuous. He looked at her for a moment or two, before turning his head back towards the front of the bus, feeling bashful. He took his seat, although the ones that occupied the same row were still absent presently.

Celia felt her face get warm when Sinclair walked past. While not exchanging a look back, her arms somewhat tightened around Recital as he soon turned back. Her stomach churned. She watched the others file in, reacting as usual to their morning wake-up routine. A tall one grumbles some swears, an even taller one slouches behind with no word and drops in his seat. The lesser knight strutted in jubilantly, lance in hand to sit upon her rightful place and take in a new adventure. A princess dashes forth with her jade-eyed prince, sitting in their spots and resuming their morning chatter past unwilling ears while downing the remains of breakfast. Celia realized she didn’t eat breakfast — but she also lacked an appetite. Perhaps it would come through the day. As the rest of the sinners made their way to their seats, Celia kept her head up to listen to any instruction. A makeshift role call later, off the bus went. This time, while LCC prepared for the next Golden Bough, a few fixers of a renowned legal office needed assistance in handling their distorted boss. They greeted Limbus Company with grace, one of them seeming to glance at a few of the sinners between statements. The operation was (somewhat) smooth. Although said distortion was self-contained within the bowels of its own office, what proved to be an issue was when said office became an obstacle itself. Celia watched indifferently as she and her coworkers passed — they revived within moments, too. In the end, a hefty reward and likely some social credit was due for the newer firm. One dinner later, with Celia mysteriously eating with the mask on (in truth, she just lifted it to quickly take bites), the sinners were all back on the bus with more knowledge and (likely) new fears. Of either Abno-parasitism, partial distortion, or simply anything with too many eyes. At the end of the day, Celia trudged back to her seat — her gaze was fixed outside the window. Finally… another day done.

Sinclair slumped down on his seat with a groan. Not my day today... He found himself thinking that often. But to his merit there was some truth to his words. While the operation was ultimately successful, it was not without great toll to Sinclair himself. To Sinclair's credit, he could get things done when the situation hinged on it, but when he was asked to affix a mirror ID onto himself, he was contemplating just gutting himself. Ironically, the mirror self which he loathed most actively, was easily one of if not, the strongest in Dante's current repertoire. It was not enough to have his thoughts and actions pervaded by things he'd rather suppress, but he unfortunately found himself corroding a multitude of times. Even now he can feel the judgmental stares of a few of the Sinners. Especially those that reside in the extension of the bus, who were less familiar with this particular ID. So much for making friends... No one wants to make nice with a person that bisected them... At least they helped people, was the sole reprieve Sinclair had. Even if he had to suffer for the sake of it. At the very least, the day was over. He wouldn't have to worry about today, because soon enough it would be yesterday. But still, one thought stuck to Sinclair's head. How many... Who did I kill this time? (edited)

1:19 AM

(corrected a minor grammatical/spelling error sorry)

This new job had its perks, thankfully. But it also had drawbacks. Ever since Faust made those extensions and sent out a new wave of contracts, it’s like having to go through orientation all over. These new employees were more unhinged, eccentric — Celia among the bunch was no exception. Celia was used to how things ran, even being the easiest one to extract IDs of out of the bunch — it seemed she was full of endless potential, able to shift in any way and make any melody work. However, with such potential came that she was frail. In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t noticed Sinclair corroding and heading straight for her — normally, Rodya would’ve taken most of the hit, or she would at least make it out only somewhat injured, but the second Celia could try and warn others, it was already time to rewind. Sinclair had killed her — not an unfamiliar occurrence, but the way it made her think had definitely changed. As she sat and replayed that moment, she could feel a sense of sorrow. Neither of them wanted to be in that position, it was just… an accident. Besides — whatever they were dealing with, it was tanking everyone’s sanity, even Celia’s. Is there any way I can avoid this, from now on?

It wasn't uncommon for Sinclair to be in this state of gloom after using this ID. All power comes at a price, and this one was rather self evident in application. If anything, it'd be best to eat his dinner then scamper off to his room. It may just be his nerves on edge, but it felt just about every single eye in the room was on him. Even if for a fraction of a second, there was the icy cold waves of contempt, and disappointment. Some definitely made it more obvious than others that they were unfortunate victims of his mental instability. It was an unfortunate curse that Sinclair had gotten skilled at scanning the emotions out of people. Even those who did their best to hide it, he could see a look of concern or fear in their eyes. Was it that bad today? Sinclair heard it was an arduous battle, and in heated conflict he was quicker to lose himself, more like a rabid beast wearing human flesh than a person. He spared himself from the desire to make small talk, isolating himself away from the crowd till he was dismissed. He hadn't much of an appetite tonight, but he figured it'd still have been best to eat something, if only to have something to fuel his body tomorrow.

In the midst of the mingling, Celia stood up and slipped away. Soon, they’d say that the nightly break has begun, and everyone would scurry off to do their usual routines. As she departed, she turned her gaze back to Sinclair. Another uncomfortable feeling filled her stomach — but she shoved it down, letting herself make that silent escape. It seems like not long after, the sinners were dismissed. She got passed by a few bodies, occasionally stopping to pat her on the head and remark about her disappearance. It was normal. She walked past the double doors of the kitchen — no need to pay mind to it today — and simply slipped away into her room. She kept thinking about those moments in her head. The way her heart stopped, the worry not only for her own life anymore— but Sinclair’s as well, and even wondering how she wasn’t fast enough this time. Opening the door and seeing the door on the right ajar, she stepped through it. As expected, the room was like she left it. The candelabra glowing golden, the foggy windows, and the painting leading to the basement. … She’s… never been able to walk into there before. Celia carefully treaded the stairs fore reaching the bottom, into the basement overgrown with thorny vines and a dense thicket. Does this mean i… She sat down at the piano in the center of the room. It was thickly wrapped in the vines, leaving only the keys exposed. “…” Celia wanted to escape, but she knew she was unable to. No, I don’t want to do this. Her guilt and her dread played over and over as she stared at the thorns. Was it offering the solution to her? Who knows.

Sinclair broke away from the crowd, feeling sick to his stomach. He stopped by his room first, to deposit his weapon and leave his jacket behind. It felt like it was darker today. As if the shadow dominated the light, what was an even divide looked a little more one sided. I’m just imagining it… No… sh-she’s not there. And it wasn’t your… Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking. Stop. Sinclair’s feelings reached a fever pitch, and he stormed out his room. Water would clear his mind. It was a simple remedy. Fire extinguished by water. Standing in the kitchen, sipping absently from a paper cup in order to clear his head. Sinclair remembered how a similar situation, albeit one less stressful, led him to his chance encounter with Celia. … Sinclair hesitantly approached the door of Celia’s room. It was nerve wracking. This should be… okay… right? (edited)

From the edges of the door was almost stillness. No pit-patting of the water of feet traversing the ground, just quietness - as if entirely empty. However, upon opening the door, the gentle sound of piano filled the room. Celia wasn’t at the central piano wrapped with the tree’s roots, but the sound was still present and filling the space with her music. Celia was in the basement, then. Surrendering herself to the task at hand, she played the thorn-covered piano. As she continued, vines slowly unwrapped and water began to pour onto the ground. She didn’t notice the door being opened, or the new presence. All that mattered to her was clearing up the basement, seeing what it would do and what it meant — an important moment… did something important happen recently? Celia had no time to think about it.

Sinclair had to bite the bullet. Even if he knocked, considering the vastness of her room the chances of her hearing it were slim. He gnashed his teeth and bit his tongue, before finding the will to open the door. The sight was about the same as the last time he saw it, yet he couldn’t help but gaze around in curiosity. When Sinclair finally found his voice, he called out. “Celia? I’m sorry for…intruding like this. But if you don’t mind..”

Still, she’s not there. Could be up the tree, but the only sound is the rustling of trees, occssional shaking, and a discordant melody being played from below. The door to the painting room was still ajar. Celia’s hands felt cold, almost shaking. But as she made more progress, she was … possessed. Where have I heard this melody? Why do I know it so easily… She still remained unaware of everything else — after all, she’s so used to being alone. If someone else was here, she definitely wasn’t going to notice them for a bit.

Music. Sinclair’s ears picked up on it. It wasn’t something he often heard anymore, save for within dreams or nightmares. It wasn’t playing last time. Sinclair found himself curious again, and moved to investigate. It was hard to focus though, as his mind was muddled. Resonating so strongly with an ID can mean that it’s thoughts may persist for a good while after. That Sinclair was furious. It wanted nothing more than to tear off its own flesh and smash everything that stood in his way. He’s a possibility. But he’s not me. Sinclair had to remind himself to disassociate the thoughts from himself. Even if it was hard, even if it meant swallowing down every single heap of fury, he had to stay calm. There’s no telling if he would break under pressure right now.

Each step closer made the music get louder, ringing clearer. As Sinclair approached the bottom of the stairs, the sight unfolded. Celia was playing away, He reached the basement room at the end of her performance. She took her hands away from the piano, staring up at the ceiling as the sky cleared up and let light in. She carefully got up, pushing the bench in and pulling a small vine off of her leg. “…” Celia’s heart ached. She looked at the left side of the room - more stairs, but the end of them looked to be shrouded in darkness still. If this was a sign she was slowly changing, It’s not a very good one, she could only think. (edited)

The basement was interesting. Unlike the peace and gentleness of the upper areas, this was a lot more like his room. Thorns that hung above the room, and dim lighting. Sinclair felt his skin crawl and his teeth gnash compulsively, as the things that existed in his imagination felt far more vivid this time. The music stopped, and Sinclair was left thinking if he should say something. It's not like she was going to remain oblivious of his presence forever, but at the same time it may be best to let her think for this moment. ... "Celia." Enough to make himself known, and controlled enough that he would not say words that weren't his.

The second he spoke, she jumped and turned around, stumbling to land upon the piano bench. “…!” “…” “…When… did you get here…?” Her heart nearly leapt out of her throat in that moment, pounding fervently as she breathed heavily. For a moment, she wanted to be upset with Sinclair for simply walking in without warning — but, he was likely uneasy, much like herself. She’d admonish him later, if at all.

"I-I'm sorry... I knew I shouldn't have... c-come in unannounced. I just... needed someone to talk to. There's a lot less pressure when I can't see your face..." Sinclair shifted uncomfortably in place. "I... didn't... do anything to you today... did I?" Sinclair had to force words out his throat, but he just had to know. Even if just to formally apologize now that he was fully in control of his faculties.

“I—it’s fine.” Celia stood up, slowly walking towards Sinclair. In her heart, she debated if she wanted to tell him the truth. The fact he asked meant he cared, but part of Celia wanted to hide it. However, she’d be haunted by that choice. “…” She gulps. “I was killed a few times — but it’s normal. I don’t mind.” Said quietly and politely, Celia nodded to herself. That was enough said, her own thoughts lacked enough substance to be added.

"A-a few..?" Sinclair felt like his soul was about to leave his body. Now, he was no stranger to the shame that followed the discovery of what he did, but the fact that he had done it multiple times to her? He felt despicable. "No.. um. I-It isn't normal... don't say that... d-don't justify it..." Sinclair's voice trembled, he felt dizzy and sick. "I um... when I did that I wasn't myself... o-or well, it was me. But not the me you know, if that makes sense... e-even if... it looked like me...." Sinclair felt like a fool trying to speak, he's sure Celia is already well aware of the functions of the mirror, someone so full of potential like herself. His face was running hot with shame, and he wanted to just run away from the whole situation. Why have I always been so weak? "I-I should go.... s-sorry." Sinclair felt like he might bite his tongue into two, should he press down any harder.

In that moment, she felt like it was a mistake telling him the truth. Again, it only serves to make a situation painful. “W-Wait. Don’t go, please.” He already made his way down here, past all the unfamiliarity of this room … why go now? Celia sighed, head tilted down. “It’s okay. I understand.” She’s talking more now, a sign she was getting comfortable. “I…” She wasn’t going to say she was worried. No way she’d let him in on that. She’s worked here for what, a few months? By now, Celia knew at least the basics of how things worked, she knew that the Sinclair who killed her wasn’t the one she was speaking to now, that she grew close to, that she started to… … Celia looked straight on. “Just— don’t go.”

“I… are you sure?” Truth be told, the last thing Sinclair desired was to be alone right now, but if she needed her space he was the last person to deny her. He nodded weakly in return. “If… you insist.” Sinclair’s mind was a little fuzzy still, but he never recalled anyone being more forgiving of what he had done than now. Forgiveness means everything for someone who always makes mistakes. He kept his eyes low to the ground, still abashed.

Stepping just a bit closer, Celia’s hand went up. She gently ruffled the top of his head in reassurance — It’s all okay, I can forgive you easily. “Are you okay?” She asked. Of course not. He’s probably deeply embarrassed, pretending it’s fine just to keep his composure steady. The light from above illuminated the two in a turquoise haze, making the entire environment feel still, sleepy. … Her heart seemed to beat a little faster each time she looked at Sinclair.

Sinclair blushes as she ruffles his hair. It was a sweet gesture. He could no longer tell the exact reason his heart was pacing. Sinclair wanted to be honest. It wasn’t fine. He was actively aware of everything he’s done wrong, and how everyday he had to face the reminders of how he let evil wander so freely into his home. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “Celia… have you ever looked into the mirror… and saw something you wished you would go away?” “…” “I’ve heard what the others have said… there is evil in my gaze… I want to be… a kinder, gentler person… I want to be… a stronger person…” (edited)

As he spoke, she simply gazed on. The lack of emotion granted by her mask meant that it would be impossible to tell that her heart was aching from his words. What did she see? Something she’s trying hard to forget, but can’t quite shake away fully. A version of herself who ignored the pain, one who woke up from the dream like it never happened. Her pain may not be as prominent, but she understood his desires. She wished to find something, someone, but it was impossible for her to realize who it was. “…” “I think you’re already very kind,” she said to him. “…And strong.” It was no lie that Sinclair had a lot of area to grow. Celia did as well, but the two of them talking meant progress was being made.

Sinclair pulled her into a tight hug, as if afraid that if he let her go, that she would disappear like everything else he had loved. It was hypocritical, that even though he had prayed so fervently for strength, he felt weak in her arms. An emotion so powerful, that it made him shake and quiver, and yet... not unwelcome. Hm. What a strange feeling.

“Ah—“ Celia had no choice but to hug him back, holding the back of his head with her hand. Who knew that such small words could make such a reaction. She buried her face into his shoulder, although all that could really be felt was just the coldness of her mask — the force was enough to really show the intent. Caring like this was an unfamiliar feeling. It hadn’t been experienced in a long time, but she no longer could picture who or what she was caring for. Living with only half of her memories, everything redacted meant over time, nothing made sense. Not even the feeling deep in her made sense right now, but she knew it was … pleasant.

Eventually, Sinclair let go, his sense of shame overtaking him. "Thank you... um... Celia. You don't know... how much it means to me." Even if Sinclair was a stranger to these feelings, he was not opposed to them. It anchored him to the world again, it reminded him that he was alive. That he was not the evil he repressed. He was not vehement rage and prejudice. They may be parts of him. They might be things he shunned and hid away, but they did not define him. Everyone had something to hide, things they wished to bury and cover in dirt. And that was okay. That did not make him a monster, it made him a person. Emil Sinclair had never desired more than peace of mind.

When they parted from the embrace, Celia felt the warmth leave with him. It made her empty, longing to hold him just a little longer. But, she suppressed the feeling. "I don't, but it's okay." She ruffled his hair again, then walked past to move up the stairs. Something about the basement irked her, and she wanted to leave again. Taking Sinclair's hand and gently dragging him off with her, she kept a gentle grip on him. "Come..."

Sinclair followed her, the beating of his own heart filling his ears. He wasn't quite sure what she wanted to show him, or if there was even something to be seen, but the kindness she afforded him left him more than willing to do so. So gentle, so kind.

Taking him up the stairs, they landed again eventually into the piano room. Celia shut the door and kept it tightly closed, soon making her way to the piano. She sat down at the bench, looking at the keys for a few moments. Then, Celia motioned for Sinclair to either sit beside her or on top of the piano -- much like she did when she was in the dream, passing by the hours. He needs company right now...

Sinclair sat next to her on the bench. It had been a long while since he was seated before a piano like this. His parents had always wanted him to play the piano. While he was capable, his sister was far more talented, which diminished his drive to practice. Still, the sight was not unwelcome, and was reminiscent of better times. How nice it was... to have company.

She watched as he scanned the keys, eyes focused on Sinclair. Celia then took the halves of the mask -- holding them to her face, Maybe, if I shed the disguise, he'll feel at ease. It's... Painful, she wanted to finish, but part of her felt it was worth it. Something in Celia felt that she was making the right choice in getting closer to Sinclair -- he willingly went back to her, seeking her comfort. Celia's hands tightened on the mask. She split it into two, keeping the upper half, and cast the bottom half on top of the white piano, to wait until she put the pieces together. When she turned back, a faint smile was on her face. "You said... you played piano at one point, right?"

Sinclair was dumbfounded, she had broken her mask? It felt like an honor for her to so willingly cast it aside for his sake. “I…used to, yes. But that was a long time ago, I’m probably rusty…” Sinclair’s eyes fell to the fragment of the mask that was laid upon the piano, before he gingerly placed his gloves next to them as well, neatly folded together.

"It's okay. Would you like me to teach you?" She followed his gaze -- and as Sinclair placed his gloves down, Celia's expression turned to one of surprise. "A-Ah. Don't worry, the mask can be put back together... the cracks are a guide." Celia gently took Sinclair's hand again, knowing how much he didn't enjoy having his hands exposed. It's nice that we can be open with eachother. . .

“And the gloves can be put back on… I think it’s fine for now… right?” He couldn’t help the blush that climbed his face when her hand took his. “I’d be honored to play with you…” Sinclair gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mm. Moment.” Celia held Sinclair’s hand to her cheek for a moment. It was warm, soft, and untouched. When the moment passed, she soon got up and left his side. Pit-pat, pit-pat. Her shoes treaded across the shallow waters, and soon landed in the library room. Where’s that book… Ah. Right where she left it. Celia stood on top of a pile of books, grabbing one that had a cover of a tree etched into it. When getting it, she hopped off of the pile and walked back into the Piano room. The closed book was placed on the stand, and Celia moved back into place. “…”

Sinclair hadn’t moved a muscle since she left. He was burning red, the sensation of her face still fresh on his hand, the moment replaying in his head. Her flesh was so soft, so warm. It felt like a cloud. He briefly acknowledged her return with a sideways glance and a nod, before lowering his gaze again.

Celia opened the book, flipping through the pages. Most of them were stuffed with different sheets, notes, or blank pages. Halfway through, though, a small bookmark fell out and onto her lap. “…!” She picked it up, holding it to the distant light — it was made of brass, ornate and elegant. At the top of it was a small image of a bird. Celia inspected it more, then tilted her head. Where that bookmark came from… she didn’t know. Gingerly, Celia placed the bookmark in Sinclair’s hand. “Here… this is yours, now.”

“O-oh… thank you for the gift…” Sinclair held it in his hands and admired it. It looked beautiful, and admittedly while he did not read much as of late, he was tempted to purchase a few books on piano the next time they stopped somewhere, just to find some use for it. Something worth cherishing, that is certain.

She nodded, giving a genuine smile. Pulling out a few sheets from the book, Celia placed them on the stand in front of them. Her gloves were taken off, cast next to the piece of her mask. She scanned the music sheets carefully. “Ah- Uhm…” “…” “Clair… can you read music?”

Clair? Oh. It’s a nickname… “Y-yes? O-oh. Can you not? I-I can read them for you, If you’d like…” Sinclair assumed she could, given that he had heard her playing earlier. But it would be best to not assume either way.

“…” Celia laughed. It was a genuine laugh, where she even took his hand and held it to her chest — her heart was pounding fast. “Why else would I have all of these sheets, if I couldn’t?” She asked between giggles, beaming widely. That’s the most she’s ever smiled or laughed in a long time. Right after, Celia’s expression changed to her usual, neutral look.

Sinclair felt a bit embarrassed initially, for asking such a foolish question, but her laughter was so sweet, so heart-touching, that he found himself joining in, creating a choir between the two. “I-I suppose it was foolish of me to ask.” Sinclair finally sputtered out, in between howls of laughter. When he finally righted himself, there was a smile on his face.

She rested her head on his shoulder to calm down from her laughter, wiping a tear from her exposed eye. “Mm… okay, follow my lead.” Celia separated her hands from his, placing them on the piano. For a moment, she looked ahead, then started to play, using her heel to tap the tempo and keep them together. She… purposefully picked a duet, one easy enough for Sinclair to understand - but Celia no longer remembered where it came from, and why it felt so dear to her. Just that she picked up the papers, and placed them in the book for a moment like this.

Like he thought, it was a bit hard to get used to the motions again. Sometimes he’d accidentally play the wrong key, or bump his hands into hers, but even the discordant noises seem to wash away in the combined beauty of it all. He found himself often peeking at her face while they were playing. It looked so peaceful, no signs of worry or stress, it was sole devotion to the moment. She was playing her heart out, and how could he ask for anything more?

Even with his mistakes, she didn’t mind - it was enough that Sinclair was even trying, as awkward as it was for him. After a few moments, Celia stopped. “Ah- here, you continue. I’ll guide.” Carefully, she held one of Sinclair’s hands and guided him, using her free hand to turn the pages. “You’re doing good so far.”

Instantaneously Sinclair found his blush grow, his heart jump in speed, and throat tighten. He was certain now, that he didn't get this way around anyone else. This... this is what it feels like, huh. * How suddenly, he developed feelings, even when he felt no one could love him. This was something he wanted to last forever. Just making melodies with her. Soon enough, the sound of his rushing heart in his ears, joined the music. *Do you ever feel like you've been given more second chances than you deserved?

Celia’s gaze moved carefully between their hands, the pages in front of them, and Sinclair’s face. What am… I feeling? It was warm, delicate. Something she’s never felt before, but she didn’t want to stop feeling it. Getting lost in thought, Celia nearly forgot to flip to the last page, quickly doing so before starting to play with her free hand. “…” Did she have feelings? Was that it? She could ask someone for advice, but… that’d reveal everything, wouldn’t it? Her stomach churned, full of butterflies. What mattered now, though, was just how comforting this felt.

The song was almost over... even if he didn't want it to end. He would play every last note, each one with his heart in his fingertips. Playing the piano... it felt like home. It felt like the sights he had forgotten. The smiles, the laughter, the love. Everything he had... and everything he lost. Did you fail to love them? Did you fail to verbalize your love for them? Did you fail to realize your love for them? Are all of these questions part of the same horrible nauseating feeling in your stomach? How long were their bodies warm? Never again.

Something felt right about playing the piano. Like something, someone she loved gave this to her. Someone she never got to see again, never got to say a proper goodbye to. Tears welled up in Celia’s eyes as they finished playing together — she tried her best to blink them away. Even if she didn’t remember who that person was, it hurt her to think about anyone she once loved dearly no longer being able to share memories with her. …but this love she felt now, wasn’t quite like what she once had. It’s different, refreshing. Like a summer breeze, or a spring rain. It was one she could never really let go of, even if who that love was attached to dissipated. Celia looked up, carefully placing the sheets back, then looked at Sinclair while holding the book to her chest.

Sinclair tried to find it within him. He was searching for answers inside his head. What would they have said here? What would he have said here? ... It's in my hands isn't it? I can't chase ghosts and memories like they'll ever give me what I'm looking for. Sinclair mustered up every ounce of courage, every tiny scrap of strength and confidence, and spoke. "I know... until recently we were almost perfect strangers. But..." "I want to run my fingers through your hair, and tell you everything. I want to see your face again. I want to play music with you, hear you laugh, I want you to hold me close when I am weak, and I want to be there for you just the same." "..." "I need you, Celia. I need you in a strange way that I cannot explain to myself yet, and I don’t want to. Your presence is calming and comforting. I… I appreciate dearly that you comforted me that night...” "But, it's different now. I can face my own problems. I am me... and you are you. It has all become clear to me now. I also learned that I really do need you. It's not because I need you as a sanctuary for my problems." "..." "I need you because I truly love you." Sinclair said everything he withheld. Leaving his heart on the table for her. Most people do not have the audacity to say the things they leave unsaid, but Sinclair has found time and time again, he is not most people.

As she listened, her eyes widened. Her heart pounded harder and harder, until she nearly became deaf to her own thoughts. This… This is real… Not… a dream? …I…Is this what they call this feeling? Love?… “Ah, I—“ Celia’s cheeks flushed a bright red. She couldn’t hide behind her mask, the piece she left wasn’t enough to shield how obviously flustered she was. “…I…” Getting the words out was harder than she wanted to admit. But, she couldn’t just leave him without an answer. Especially not after he poured his entire heart out, and after all the beautiful moments they had together. At that moment, she spoke without even thinking… letting be known what her heart desires. “I love you too, Sinclair.”

The reciprocation of her feelings burnt away every doubt and fear that still lingered in his mind at that moment. Even the muddled thoughts of violence that still remained from the ID, were no match for the elation he felt at that moment. It is so strange... that today... the day that I killed you... is the day I would love you. It was rather cruel... but it was only after things died, that Sinclair truly understood how much they meant to him. "I-if you would be... kind enough to receive me... may I hold y-your hand again?"

Delicately, she put the book away, on top of the piano next to their belongings. No words, just a nod. She took his hands, holding them carefully. Although her expression was nearly unreadable, Celia’s rosy cheeks gave away exactly what was on her mind. Despite losing much of herself, she still had a space in her heart for someone to fill again. While this wasn’t exactly the person she expected… she wouldn’t have it any other way. Perhaps, when she remembered everything, this bond and its foundations will mean just that much more to her.

It was wonderful. The way it felt as if Sinclair's skin was built to hold her. His fingers locked perfectly with hers. When he hugged her, his head fit just right in the crook of her neck. It couldn't be a coincidence. Even if he was lacking purpose now... he knew he was built to love her. Nothing could take that away from him. For as long as they operated with Limbus Company, not even death could do them part. It's faster than a shooting star, but somewhere else on the bus, for the thinnest of moments. There was a room that was perfectly bright.

Celia’s brow furrowed. She squeezed Sinclair’s hand — the squeeze got a little tighter as she felt a tear hit her thigh. Her vision became blurry. Celia’s nose burned, she felt a lump in her throat. And, suddenly, she burst into tears. The normally quiet, seemingly emotionless Celia was now crying, pathetically wiping her tears away with her sleeve and mixing in joyful laughs to cover the display of vulnerability. She hadn’t cried like this in a while. Since she…. A long time, at least. Celia didn’t exactly know how to handle it, even feeling a little awkward doing it in this moment. But, she couldn’t really hold it in for much longer.

Sinclair ran his hand over her head, stroking it gently. “It’s ok… to cry. It’s ok to feel weak sometimes… when that happens…You have me. I’ll be there… I promise...” Sometimes, it’s better to cry. To lower our defenses, to be honest with each other. If Sinclair has learned anything recently, that tears are just another flavor of the human existence.

Celia instinctively leaned into Sinclair as he comforted her. Her tears didn’t last long, drying up almost as quickly as they started. “… uhm.” “Thank you.” Truthfully, she was remembering how to feel things. Crying like that felt unnatural, but it wasn’t so bad with Sinclair around. She was certain that anyone who had cared for her would be proud of her for being able to be vulnerable like this. However, she had a question. “A—are you gonna stay here again tonight? Or, are you going to sleep in your room?”

“I…” Sinclair hadn’t actually put any thought into that till now. While he didn’t want to be rude and impose on her two nights in a row, he didn’t want to part ways either. “I-I’ll just linger for a little longer…and I’ll find out from there.” It was an uncertain answer, but satisfied both of his concerns.

“Mm… okay.” Part of her wanted to ask him to stay, but she didn’t wish to subject him to climbing the tree again, or arouse suspicion in the case they weren’t lucky enough to wake up early. Celia leaned back on Sinclair, closing her eyes a little. A wave of relief seemed to wash over her. For telling her how she felt, for seemingly comforting him, even crying felt relieving. Celia’s voice got quiet. “…Do you feel better?”

“A-ah…” Sinclair just remembered the reason he came into her room in the first place. “Yeah. I think… this is the best I’ve felt in a long time.”

“That’s good.” Celia paused. She had something she wanted to do, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it yet. Can I…? Would he…? Well, part of her wanted to see his reaction. So, she leaned in and applied the smallest kiss to his cheek. It was less her actually kissing, and more of Celia simply pushing her lips into Sinclair’s skin. Right after came some words of reassurance. “Don’t… feel bad about today, okay? Things happen. Now we’re here.”

It was a quick peck to the cheek, but it felt like so much more than that. Sinclair wasn't one well versed in romance, but he had heard from others. Rodya had told him before that a kiss between lovers is different than a kiss from family. While he wasn't sure what it meant at the time, now he understood there was wisdom to what she said. As his face turned a deep red, he forced himself to look directly into her eyes, even if he was currently feeling timid. "Thank you... I really don't have any other words.... but thank you...for finding in your heart to love me, even when there is something so shameful beneath the surface..."

Celia sighed. “Is that what you think of yourself…?” The question was simply poised. She saw nothing shameful, just someone hurting. Someone who’s suffered a lot. That was very much worth caring for, especially given how each meeting they had seemed to have Sinclair on the verge of breaking down. Celia asked Iris to catch her up on what she had missed once, having the knight easily recount the stories Faust explained to her in thorough detail. From the bug soldiers to the freezing castle, even up to the fight with Kromer and the tragedies within K Corp. itself, Celia knew a lot of the sinners had deep sorrow, and Sinclair’s burrowed deep within him. Part of Celia wanted to make a comment about how he felt so strongly for someone who barely even remembers who she is — although such a statement was half-true, as she was merely trying to define it as she went on. To Celia, she didn’t understand how he felt about himself — nor did she want to try.

"N-no, It's fine now. I um... d-don't mind staying a little longer. I-If that's fine by you..." Sinclair was still a little flustered, but he wanted to stay with her for a while longer, and enjoy this moment while it was still fresh. In his own eyes, Sinclair saw Celia as someone who had lost their place in the world. But that's alright. Everyone is looking for something, somehow, someway. So what made her any different?

“Mm. You can stay again tonight…” Admitting that she wanted him to stay with her made her heart pound. Ach, there’s no guides on this… Just going along with what your heart wants. Celia stood from the piano and stretched, staring up at the wall between the trees. The normally dull center pendant glowed a bright cyan, likely signaling she was… happier than normal. Celia’s never seen that before, but she smiled up at it. As the room shifted to reflect her lighter mood, it was like the sun was shining down after a brief rain. She picked up the book again.

Sinclair stood from the bench, taking his gloves with him. He had no intention of putting them on, but he did not desire to forget them either. His hands were for her only. Nor did he forget the bookmark, which he promised himself to find a use for. The room seemed more vibrant, as if an artist had added a splash of color to their work. It only added to the already impressive scene, and left Sinclair as awestruck as always. He wasted no time dragging his feet however, and was ready to go anywhere she wanted to.

Quickly, Celia put the book away in the Library and returned to Sinclair. She looked over at her mask. “…” Then, she fully took off the fragment that remained over her eye, placing it by the bottom half and pushing the sides together - they slowly formed a whole, leaving the crack that never ceased to exist. When she turned back, her face was exposed. All of it. Even if most was visible, something was different about seeing her entire expression, appearing nearly half-asleep. It was … cute.

To be entirely honest, there was scarcely a difference. But the simple step it took to expose the entirety of her countenance meant the world to Sinclair. Now that the both of them had fully laid bare that which they had always hidden, it was a moment of beautiful transparency. She looked precious. Someone worth fighting for. Dying for. Living for. Coming back just to do it all over again. She looked precious, because she was precious to him.

“We should go upstairs.” Celia walked to the bark of the tree, trying to get herself sturdy. Her foot touched a tile right behind the piano, shifting the center of the floor and rotating it until a portion of it raised. A platform? Ah… must make climbing easier. “…This room… keeps surprising me.” Celia suddenly felt the urge to withhold this discovery from any new visitors. Just to have them climb. “Hmmm….”

"O-oh? A-amazing..." Sinclair was filled with childlike wonder once again at the sight of the various mechanisms of the room. It was like a new experience each time. The platform wasn't unwelcome, as Sinclair was more than happy to avoid the strain of climbing to the top once more.

“I guess that saves time.” Celia stepped upon the platform, taking Sinclair’s hand along the way and holding it tightly. “I don’t remember this,” she whispered to herself. The platform shifted out of the floor and floated up the tree — Celia knelt down, closing her eyes so she didn’t look down. It was ironic now, given she lived in the room with the giant tree. Perhaps it was merely the lack of control that made the height scary. Then, the platform stopped. Celia’s eyes opened. “…That was easy.” She stepped across the gap to the upper floor’s landing, soon falling and landing on her hands and knees from a tiny slip-up. Normally, Celia would just get up without complaint. But this time, she let out a soft chuckle.

It definitely was easier to take this platform than to climb. Sinclair was quick to help her with a worried look. "A-are you alright Celia? Y-you're not hurt are you?" His eyes ran up and down, trying to confirm her condition. (edited)

As she stood, she simply kept laughing to herself. She lifted each leg, noticing only a small scrape on her left knee. It began to bleed, but not so much it was of too much concern. “I’m okay— Oh, just a small scrape,” Celia pointed out. No matter, she thought while walking forward into her room. The normally hazy darkness past the fence at the far side had become a waterfall outside the window, exposing a foggy forest of trees that seemed to expand endlessly. It was a lot calmer, more comforting than before.

He wasn't quite sure what she was laughing at. Was she trying to laugh off her little spill? It left Sinclair rather confused. "I-If you're sure..." Sinclair still wore concern on face, but ultimately relented. If she was sure she was fine, he may as well believe her. It was soothing to take in the scenery of the room, as such sights of natural beauty were scarce in The City. And he could not help but wish he had some sort of camera to save this view outside of his memories.

“Positive,” she reassured him. “…I see you’re worried, though. Mm.” Celia made her way to a bookshelf right next to the window, pulling out a small box. Inside were various makeshift first aid items, among them being gauze she stole from Dr. Frankenstein’s room (it was willingly surrendered; Victor just didn’t outright say it) and a few cotton pads. She took just enough care to clean up the wound before wrapping it. Now it’s actually fine. “….There. All good now, don’t worry.”

"S-sorry... I don't mean to be overbearing..." Sinclair shuddered. He had seen small wounds like that get infected in the past, and they were not pretty. Even in his town of Calw, he had seen a few people that had to amputate and replace entire limbs with prosthetics due to a single medical mishap. Sinclair was glad though, to see her wound properly taken care of.

Celia was used to small bumps and bruises. Even as a little girl, she used to run around and explore, sometimes slipping up and hurting herself. And, much like now, she’d usually laugh it off. Someone older would admonish her carelessness, and he’d bandage her wounds — only to then release her to continue her grand adventures, as if the mishap didn’t happen. That was one of the few memories she still had. Celia made her way over to Sinclair, taking his hand. “No, not overbearing. It’s… nice.” She said it with a smile, squeezing Sinclair’s hand. (edited)

“O-oh… no problem.” It felt stupid to blush every time they touched, but Sinclair couldn’t help it. It felt so warm each time, that he could never tire of the feeling. He had missed moments of innocence like this, they are so few and far between now, but it was so wonderful to have them back in his life. (edited)

It’s times like this that make Celia’s life a little less bleak. She grew used to the monotony of life, fighting the same things and being with the same people, watching the same tragedies. At least when the sun went down, she could change things up. Play the piano, read a new book, aimlessly wander the kitchen, chat with a coworker… even hold hands with them in the vastness of her room, having just linked hearts. She leaned in again to apply a better, proper kiss on the cheek. Likely just to make up for the last time, or to get Sinclair fired up again. Cute. ♡

Sinclair wasn't expecting it, and it made his face flare even brighter. Her lips felt so soft and smooth, and now that she fully pressed them against his cheek, he could feel them with complete clarity. He stammered briefly, trying to find words to say, ultimately giving up with a sheepish smile on his face.

That was the kind of reaction she expected. Celia smiled coyly. “Ah- you’re not hungry, are you…?” Even if they were high up, she realized both of them hadn’t eaten for a while. Hopefully that platform was still there, waiting to take them down. “It’s… okay…. If not.”

Sinclair thought for a moment. He had neglected his hunger earlier, while he was feeling gloom. Even if he could go without food for the day, he didn't want her to stay hungry for his sake. "W-we can go eat. I think we've both had a long day today." Sinclair gave her head a gentle pet, running his fingers through her hair.

“Mm.” As he ran his fingers through her hair, Celia’s face lit up and her cheeks became red. Her hair was soft, fluffy, cared for greatly. She lead him to the edge of the upper floor, seeing the platform that lead them up still there. She carefully stepped on - then made sure Sinclair got on as well. “All good?” She asked.

“Y-yeah.” Sinclair peered over the edge of the platform. He felt he could never tire of it. The picturesque view surpassed anything The City had for display.

As they both stepped on, Celia held Sinclair close. Something about the platform moving made her feel uneasy, but keeping hin close gave her just enough comfort. And to think, this only happened because they happened to cross paths that night. When it landed, she quickly went up to the piano at the bottom of the tree, picking up her mask and gloves to put on. Once again, concealing her face. Part of Celia wanted to ask about why her room ended up this way. She couldn’t ask Iris, who’d refer to Faust — and Faust would only babble about how it was ‘the fathoms of her EGO,’ or that it was ‘a physical form of her mental state.’ Not really enough answers, but the beauty and vastness of it seemed to suggest Celia was filling a lot of her mind with emptiness and fantasy. Celia quietly walked to the door, holding the handle and waiting. For this moment, her silence resumed.

Sinclair nearly forgot to put his gloves back on before he left. His hands once again closed off to the world. Maybe one day I’ll take them off… for good. Sinclair waited patiently behind her, allowing them to go at her pace.

She opened the door and tightly shut it, scanning the hallways. It looked... clear. Normally, by now, some of the newer sinners would be moving between rooms and mingling -- perhaps they already were in their destinations. Celia took Sinclair's hand and lead him to the kitchen. The double doors slid open to show that ... someone was already in there. Humming resonated through the room, and beneath the orange light was Rodya, who seemed to be quite occupied with whatever she was cooking. A small notebook was on the counter next to her, with varying scribbles in overly-neat blue writing. She read the book, then tried following the instructions. The younger sinner knocked on the wall. This alerted Rodya, who turned around fast as if she were getting caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. "...oh! Kiddos, I... didn't think you'd still be up this late." Celia shrugged. Her hand waved over her stomach. "You're hungry, too? Mmm~" Rodya put her ladle to her lip, stealthily tasting the contents. "I think I'll make just enough food for you too, but please don't snitch to the others about this. I don't wanna be put on kitchen duty." A thumbs up was only given in response. "Good. I can always count on you, Celi! your quietness has perks, fufu~ ... Trouble sleeping, though? Or have you two been staying up chatting all night?" She teased. Celia kept quiet. Not that she wished to speak, either way. She felt it was easier to let Rodya make her own conclusions, and perform her almost motherly role on her own script.

Sinclair wasn’t quite expecting to encounter Rodya here. If he could help it, he’d rather keep his feelings for Celia unknown from the other sinners. “Oh? I-I was just coming to get something to eat… and um… Celia happened to be going the same way I suppose…” Sinclair realized that he hadn’t said it earlier, and probably owed it to her as well. “Sorry if… I did something to you… earlier today.” He looked rather embarrassed when he said it, sincerely regretting his instability during their work. His time with Celia had helped him get over most of the guilt, but he may as well apologize in case there were still some bitter feelings lingering.

Rodya rolled her eyes and scoffed lightheartedly. She turned back, holding the ladle close to her. "It's okay, Clair -- I know we all get a little cuckoo sometimes. Honestly, maybe Dante should've listened to Faust's advice on moderation~" Celia stifled a small chuckle. She quietly let go of Sinclair's hand, sitting at one of the chairs right in front of the row of cooking stations. "What's that?" "This? Ahhh~ Just some kind of stew that Sault wrote the recipe down for. It's awfully cold in my room, so this warms me right up. Maybe take some for your plants, they'll like it." "They... prefer water." Rodya laughed at the comment, looking back at the notebook and grabbing some spices from a nearby cabinet. Celia looked over at Sinclair, staring quietly. Her cheeks felt warm.

Sinclair returned the gaze and gave a brief, knowing nod. If she doesn’t figure it out, no one will. Sinclair hadn’t seen Rodya cook since the event at Eubong’s, but if she’s following Meursault’s recipe, it should turn out pretty well.

She seems clueles... that was a good cover. "Would you like some of this, Clair?" Rodya asked. "It's real good, I promise~" Celia raised her hand. Rodya nodded back, preparing to plate the stew after a few more taste tests. "Most people aren't up right now -- I think I saw Heath and Ish storm off to their rooms right as I left mine, so feel free to lift the mask a little, Celi -- unless he hasn't seen your face." "Mm. Okay..." She wasn't gonna admit that minutes before, they were close and both exposing themselves, but she just agreed with the notions. It was infinitely easier to just let the woman ramble. "Are you doing okay, though, Clair? I know Faust tends to get shaken up by her Inquisitor ID, I always see Iris have to comfort her before getting those three-hours-of-sleep. If you need anything, I got you--" "He'll be okay. He's strong." "That's right! He is!~" Rodya parroted back with a joyful giggle.

(DIDNT MEAN TO SEND IT IM KILLIN MYSELF)

"Y-Yeah... I'll have some..." Sinclair felt a little bashful to be receiving these compliments. Strong isn't exactly a word that comes to mind when he pictures himself, but if they say it, he's willing to believe it. Faust's N-Corp ID wasn't something Sinclair liked thinking about. The first time he saw it... he couldn't help himself. For every ID that was related to Nagel Und Hammer, it was almost a rite of passage to be chopped down by a frenzied Sinclair. While now he had gotten better at controlling himself, those wearing Inquisitor ID's were most likely to be targeted when he corroded. Not like he had control over that...

The two nodded in unison. It was like watching mother and child, their similarities rang a lot deeper than either Rodya or Celia would like to admit. Celia played with her sleeves and kicked her feet against the stool she sat on, eyes scanning all of the items in the kitchen. The kitchen duty board, laden with notes and half-assed scribbles of sinners trying to dodge their responsibility. Another board for shopping lists, including someone's endless requests for strawberry shortcake and another's for quality beef (for steaks! *they'd remark). Things they couldn't afford quite yet, despite the new makeshift accountant's excellent budgeting and occasional fund increase thanks to lady luck blessing a chronic gambler. A few sticky notes on the corkboard parallel to the viewing window, mostly being chatter between the sinners. One of them stood out, being a "PLEASE stop taking my breakfast!" from a distressed Ishmael, to which a reply from Heathcliff was written -- a simple "No thanks." As Celia let her mind wander, Rodya began serving the food for them. She ended up having leftovers, so she quickly packaged them and shoved them into a back corner of the fridge -- if someone found them, she would immediately know someone was snooping to find her stuff. "Okay, kiddos, eat up," Rodya said while carrying two small bowls. She placed the first in front of Celia, offering the second to Sinclair. "Mm, thank you." Celia split her mask again momentarily to eat -- Rodya's expression changed to one of surprise. *Is she gonna question me? I hope not... I can just say it was a mistake, Celia thought to herself. It sort of was, at least the first time.

Sinclair did his best to pretend that he didn't see what Celia just did, acting like he was far too engrossed in his meal to notice Celia's blunder. Internally however, Sinclair was sweating bullets. He wasn't sure how Rodya would react if she found out, and frankly he didn't want to chance it either. He nervously scooped spoonfuls into his mouth, scalding his tastebuds.

"Hey, Clair, be careful. You too, Celia..." Rodya said, putting her fingers against the cold mask to push it against Celia's face. "Oh, it's fine, he's alr--" "?" "He won't look, I think." "Okay, if you say so." Celia sighed, lifting the spoon and quickly lifting the bottom part of her mask to eat. Rodya ate from the other side of the counter, keeping the half-tattered apron above her uniform. It wasn't clear where they got it from, but now it was a valuable asset to Limbus Company. Rodya kept her focus mostly on her meal, even going out of her way to find some of the buns she had just purchased to dip in the soup. Right as she turned around, though, heavy footsteps walked past the door. Celia looked back as well. "Celi, hide the b--" "They're gone. I think I saw a red hat." "That fly..." Rodya grumbled with a half-chuckle. "Mm. Wandering..." "Ah, it's fine. Even if he knew we were in here, he hates this stuff. Can't get him to try it even once." "...how do you know?" "Just do," Rodya fibbed. Celia chuckled to herself. Seems Rodya's got some secrets of her own... maybe that's why she's not as attentive. Subtly eating, she made sure to occasionally peek over at Sinclair, hiding the butterflies in her stomach.

Sinclair had to pretend he was completely clueless, which isn't to say was impossible, just very difficult. It was only made harder by the glances that Celia kept stealing at him, and while he wished to do the same, he had to pretend like the stew was the only thing in the world. It was good, as expected from Meursault. He was just that type of man, wholly capable in just about anything. Sinclair hoped that someday he could be just as reliable.

Rodya seemed not to notice the tension between the two. Although Celia kept accidentally slipping up, Rodya paid no mind to it. She finished her bowl of soup, putting the dishes in the sink. "Okay, kiddos, i'll handle the dishes. And..." Celia peeked up. Her head tilted. "Geez, don't look at me like that. I was just going to say to have a good night~ I heard from Dante that we're stopping at a Terminal tomorrow." "Terminal?" "Yeah. They have a few that move to different districts, and one just relocated near where we are now. It's a good chance to stop and shop~ I can give you allowance!" The younger sinner grimaced at the notion of an 'allowance,' like she was a child. But, she had to keep up her role. "I think I have enough... but more would be nice." "Get a treat with it. I won big recently, but Fau went on about needing to save it and put it in for everyone, so i'm trying to pretend I'm running a charity service, huhu~" Celia enjoyed Rodya's chatty nature. She nodded along, continuing to eat until she no longer had any soup left. She held the bowl up.

A Terminal.. huh. It had been a fair bit of time since they had the chance to stretch their legs. Sinclair had been hoping to pick up a few things the next time they stopped, so it was good timing. Sinclair finally finished his bowl as well, feeling full and refreshed. "Is there something you're looking to buy Rodya?"

“Me? Oh, it depends on what’s there. Normally I have to go grocery shopping, but this time I wanna get something nice for myself.” “Like what?” “Mmm… good question~ Perhaps it’s due time I got a bracelet — and one that isn’t horribly overpriced.” Celia hummed in thought. What would she buy? In looking at the terminal guide pamphlets, she always remembered wanting to go to the book store, or simply cruise the various restaurants and stores that were at each different one. She might have to ask around for the pamphlet for the terminal they’ll be going to, and develop a plan as she read through. Maybe she could get to look around with Sinclair. Celia’s stomach began to churn in anticipation… she was quite the simple girl, after all. “Ah. Why are we going?” “I dunno, maybe corporate things. The bus might need tweaking, since the boat upgrades and expansions must’ve done a number.” “I see.” “Yeah? Hey, Clair- do you have anything you want to get done?”

"O-oh... me? Uh... Well I suppose I wanted to get some books... there isn't much to do in my room... anything else I'll figure out from there." Sinclair was wondering what this terminal would have to offer. He probably had more than enough money saved for whatever he wished to buy, presuming it wasn't at an extortionate price. Is there anything she would like? "H-how about you Celia? Is there anything you want to pick up?"

After some thought, she couldn’t really come up with a good answer, so she rambled her ideas. “Maybe… some books, the library needs a few spots filled. Or… ah… i’ll try one of the restaurants. Yeah.” “Oh, you know Celia. Usually she just sits at the piano in the lobby and plays away until it’s time to go. Are your plans changing?” “Mhm. Worth a shot.” She put her hands on her cheeks, really debating what she’d do. Ah, maybe I’ll find something Sinclair would enjoy. Although, I gave him that bookmark… She looked at him again, putting her hand to her chin. “Your possibilities are endless,” Rodya reassured. “Maybe ask around for ideas, and don’t listen to those rich-folk — either of you. They have no clue what a good deal is.” “Understood…?”

"Right." Sinclair nodded affirmatively. Books sounds like the way to go... and she wants to visit a restaurant? That sounds pretty easy to arrange... In that case, Sinclair ought to return to his room tonight. Pick out some clothes, recount his money, make some sort of plan. Besides, Rodya would get suspicious if they headed the same way. It'll be worth it tomorrow though. (edited)

“Well~ I should get going now. If someone asks any questions, be sure to blame it on Heath.” “Heathcliff?” “Mhm. Don’t ask, just do it.” “Got it. Goodnight.” “Good night, Celi and Clair~” And with that, Rodya’s out. The rest of the bus was still, so Celia stood up and slinked up to the fridge. She opened it, grabbing a small piece of cake that was wrapped in adorably pink plastic. She’s definitely stealing someone’s snack. A little bit of mischief - guess it never hurts. She had an alibi, either way. Perhaps it was the setup to an argument. She took off her mask and placed it to the side, unwrapping the cake to take a bite out of it. “…mgh… That wasshh… hardurr… than i fhought…—“ She swallowed the small bite of cake. “It would be… excuse me.” The small lack of manners went by with a brief apology and Celia’s cheeks getting red. Perhaps she was releasing the pent up anxiety from that interaction.

Sinclair giggled a little, putting a gloved hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. Cute. "Yeah... I-I was sure she'd figure us out for a minute there... I guess we got lucky?" Sinclair chuckled nervously. "I-If it's all the same to you then... I have some things I want to arrange in my room... so I'll be staying there tonight..." Sinclair felt a bit hesitant to say this, but it was wholly the truth.

“I think she was too busy with the soup and worrying about whatever she’s gonna do tomorrow to figure us out.” “And… That’s okay… I think I need to arrange some things, as well.” She continued eating the cake, then discarded the trash in the nearby bin. Should I face the consequences… Ah, It’s worth it. I might ask her for her tastes. Oh… wait… I need to ask for something. Celia sighed to herself - admittedly, she did want to stay a little longer, but they were getting the habit of staying up late. Is this a goodnight, then? Lifting herself off of the fridge’s door, she walked over to Sinclair and nearly threw herself into a hug. It was tight, sincere… full of affection. How sweet.

Sinclair almost fell back from the sudden hug, thankfully he managed to keep his footing. He hugged her tightly, and gave her a cheeky kiss on the top of her head. "G-Good night Celia..."

“Night.” As she separated from the hug, she was left only with the lingering warm feelings from it. Ignoring the sense of emptiness, she rubbed the top of her head with a smile. That… made up for everything that happened today. She grabbed her mask and soon left the kitchen, but stayed behind for a bit to make sure Sinclair got into his room safe. She had an extra mission, just before settling in for the night.

Sinclair made it back to his room without any trouble, not that he was expecting any. The sights were the same as always, but at the very least, he wasn't imagining anything. Instead, he was busy thinking about where to take her, what to wear, what she would like. Glasses... I hope she doesn't laugh... Sinclair didn't wear them often, as they would more than likely get in the way in a fight. It's not like his eyesight was terrible either, but it relieved some of the strain.

As Sinclair entered his room, she slipped further down the hallway to a door labeled ‘24,’ with a small cross underneath it. Knock, knock. ”…At this hour? I hope it’s something important…” “”…Worry not, Faust believes it has to be.”* When the door opened, Celia looked up expectantly. Before her was Iris, someone who Celia looked up to greatly. “Advice, please.” “Mm. Come in.” As Celia entered the vast white space, she noticed a few of the swords that normally hung from the ceiling impaling the ground, forming red spots near their landing. She felt guilty for intruding, just for a moment. “Lady Faust, it’s Celia. You don’t mind if she stays for a bit, right?” “Faust permits this.” Celia bowed politely. “… We’re going to a terminal, right?” “Mhm. Why, are you nervous about an outing?” Celia shook her head. Their next interactions fell silent, as if Iris was reading Celia’s mind and vice versa. “…Oh, I see… Well, just follow what you think is best. If all else fails, why not ask?” “…” “…not that simple, I see. Okay, next best bet is something personal to you.” “…” “Mmm, okay. My, Celia, you’re even making me confused.” Iris’ halo spun and flickered in thought, before it lit up right as her brows raised. “Depending on who it is, it’s either gonna be something that reminds them of their past, or…” “…?!” “Not that… okay. Just… maybe figure out what they liked, and find something like that. I can’t give good advice if I don’t know who it is, and…” “…!” “…You’re not gonna tell me. But that’s a good sign.” Celia considered this to be good enough, and gave another bow to Iris and Faust before leaving the room. She ran back to hers, invigorated by the ideas she received. I got this, Celia thought to herself before closing the door. “…Did you know about that, Iris?” “No, I didn’t. I’m glad she’s making friends, though. Even if i’m unsure who they are.” “We shall see in time. After all,” “Faust knows all outcomes. Agreed.”

That's everything. I think. Not being frivolous whenever they reached rest stops paid off, as Sinclair had a decent stash of Ahn saved up. As long as everything was not upcharged beyond reason, he'll likely be able to buy a few books and take Celia somewhere nice to eat. That was the plan, at least. Sinclair wished he had a bed. Unfortunately, the only furniture in his room, besides the side rooms that seemed to manifest when he needed a change of clothes or a shower, was the chair. It didn't even move, it's like it was fused into the ground. And so, he sat down and closed his eyes, sleeping as comfortably as he could in the split of his room.

As Celia entered her room, she ran to the library to gather her items. She left them laid on top of the piano, and shed her mask, taking in the air. It's still so bright... The gem hadn't stopped glowing. The room seemed to still be filled with that beautiful sunlight, the lily pads on the shallow water blooming with lotuses. Celia's heart was fleeting with such joy -- it was rare, and so pleasant. She stepped on the platform and kneeled down. As if on command, it turned and lifted her up the tree once more. "Convenient," she murmured to herself. Celia walked to her room, staring past the waterfall. In the distance, she could see a shadow. Tall, lanky, and familiar. is that.... You're back? What, to wish me well and remind me? Remind you... of what? No, it can't be this. I don't want to see it again. She blinked and the figure was gone. Celia sighed. She had a big day tomorrow, and needed to get as much rest as possible. Turning to the small cat plush she always kept on her bed, she hugged it tight as she crawled in and tried her hardest to sleep.

Sinclair was uncomfortable. He was every night. But after sleeping comfortably last night, he suddenly wished to never sleep upright again. Maybe if I... Sinclair closed his eyes and tried with all his might to imagine a bed. A soft, plush bed smack dab in the center of his room. ... And when he opened his eyes... Nothing. He let out a groan. The fathoms of his E.G.O didn't have room for a bed? Seriously? Resigned, he tries to sit in a somewhat comfortable position, and fall asleep proper.

As she repressed the shadow's appearance, and who it reminded her of, Celia eventually drifted into a dream. And for once, this dream wasn't unpleasant. She was floating in the clouds, sitting on the moon and watching the carnage below. She was with... someone special. Although she never looked their way, the feeling she got when their hands got close enough left Celia feeling at peace. And just before she could leap off the moon into the sea of despair below, Celia woke up in a cold sweat. Was it... early enough to get up? In front of her was a mirror, showing her childhood self. When she looked at it, she grabbed the doll as quickly as possible. Mirai, it's too early, isn't it? This time, the doll didn't answer. ...It has to be, I'll just go back to sleep. Celia buried her face in the sheets, once again tying to sleep. Her stomach churned, but eventually the sheer heaviness of her eyes lead her back into a new dream.

Sinclair's dreams were relatively... boring. Which is something that is appreciated given his typical dreams. Every so often he'd wake up in the midst of the night, hearing footsteps in the hall, or the chattering of two sinners who were up far later than they should be. Every time, he'd take a long look at the ceiling. Because just maybe... it would be his own. Am I... cruel? Heartless? To still want that? Even now?

Finally having a good rest, Celia woke up and nearly hit her head on her wall from how quickly she sat up. This isn’t my home… will I never wake up to it again…? Of course I won’t. How do I even remember it? Do I …? Swallowing the discomfort, Celia tried her best to keep her mind steady. Shoving uncomfortable feelings into the depths of her mind — much like the vastness of this castle — felt easier. The routine was easy. Stretch, rub the eyes, float down the tree, and prepare. Right as she landed at the bottom of the tree, she heard a knock on her door. Covering her face with her hair, she guessed who was knocking. It’s Iris. And correct she was, as her dear seonbae was at the door - finally not seen with Faust - holding Chevalier next to her. Instead of her uniform, she wore a simple blouse with a blue bow, and a long navy skirt. Celia nodded a ‘good morning.’ “Morning, I’m just making sure you’re awake. Do you need my help at all?” “…” “Alright. Dress like you’re not at work, Verg told us it’d be fine considering we’re not intending to do much than to stay at the Terminal while Mephistopheles gets a check-up.” “…!” “Mm. I’ll see you.” And with that, Celia closed the door, fixed her hair, and walked to where she left everything out to get ready for the day. I wish… I could look as pretty as Iris.

Sinclair woke up as stiff as always, stretching the drowsiness out of his bones. Still not there… He had things to care of today anyway, not like there’s time to dwell on it. He fixed his hair, found his clothes, and gathered his Ahn. Hopefully, whatever planning he did would be enough to have the day run smoothly. He pushed his glasses onto his face, and went to his seat in the bus.

She seemed to just stare at her clothes, putting her hands on her cheeks in thought. Never in her life did she ever have to go through such menial, but such massive debates in her head. Is this… nice enough? Will he like it? Ah, he’ll like it either way. It’s Sinclair, he… loves me. She reassured herself and quietly changed, soon walking into the library to make sure everything was right. Something’s missing… She remembered a small headband she received as a gift during her first days working for Limbus Company. Perhaps as a ‘congrats for waking up,’ or just for landing a job despite her injuries and amnesia. It was a small white headband fashioned like a flower crown - Celia put it in her hair, then put on the mask right after. Grabbing Recital and her wallet right after, she quietly walked to her seat on the bus, giving a brief glance to Sinclair. Thankfully, she wasn’t one of the last ones.

Sinclair was a bit surprised for a few reasons. Celia looked amazing, so much so that he already felt his heart beat fast, and he just wanted to pull her into his arms. However… she was bringing her weapon. Sinclair had left Vogel in his room. Were weapons really necessary for this stop?

It was merely following Iris’ lead — who always kept Chevalier by her side, just in case. After all, better safe than sorry. She crossed her legs, watching as the last few people filed in. As expected, the people nearest to her were last. “What an adorable get-up, Celia,” Sei complimented kindly. For once, her words weren’t laden with a disdainful venom. “Thanks,” she replied softly. Ishmael gave a passing glance and a nod, making her way past Meursault and bundling her hair in her arms. As Holden passed, he tapped Celia’s shoulder. Pretending he didn’t, when she glared at him all he did was chuckle and wink back at her. How annoying….. Rodya was the last. She looked to multiple people, but her gaze fixated on Sinclair for a bit longer. Cute glasses! she thought, before making her way to her seat. Celia’s stomach churned. “Can we go already? I’m starting to get tired of this bus again,” complained Sei while side-eyeing Heathcliff. “Quiet, Princess, we just got here,” Holden barked back. “…How long will it be?” Celia asked. Iris replied, “About an hour.” Hm. Not bad. (edited)

The bus ride wouldn’t be terribly long, and it might even be more comfortable than usual given that they weren’t in uniform. Everyone seemed excited to be out and about, although it only added to the butterflies in Sinclair’s stomach. It’s just a simple outing… you won’t mess it up… I really hope I don’t mess it up…

Celia listened to the conversations of the others near her on the bus. She was seated near the noisiest corner, so it meant every day was different and just as entertaining as the one before. She listened to a debate today. A debate about how deep a pan had to be before it became a pot. Celia couldn’t really figure out her stance, but listening to the passion of her coworkers was enough to pass the hour by. Holden was particularly passionate. Every word Heathcliff tried to get in, Ishmael and Sei would snuff it out and bring up their “totally correct” points. Faust tried to be factual before being mocked into quietness, and Hong Lu tried feigning indifference. Even Iris had a few good points, but she couldn’t defend them well enough as soon as Holden tried to cut in with a “Nuh-uh!” Ryoshu seemed to just want to listen in as well, occasionally glancing at Celia to see how she was reacting. Eventually, with no side ever agreeing, the bus came to the terminal. It was half-worn down, half newly renovated. Faust was giving a lengthy explanation on the one they were pulling into, but no one cared to listen — not like they wouldn’t figure it all out in a few minutes, either way. Right as the bus stopped, Vergilius ordered the sinners off. Celia stayed behind as those before her got up and left first. Celia stood up, taking Recital, then quietly walked off the bus. That was… eventful. (edited)

Sinclair brushed himself off before joining the rest of the Sinners off the bus. As he stepped off he took a deep breath of the fresh air, eager to enjoy it for as long as he had the chance. He could hear some Sinners that were still mumbling, evidently bitter over some sort of argument. Not that he had any idea what it was. He waited alongside his coworkers until they were formally dismissed, and permitted to wander about the Terminal. (edited)

Celia subtly made her way until she was standing next to Sinclair, looking around. Lots of different things, including maps and guides and dozens of small stores. “…” Vergilius seemed to be speaking with someone, Faust standing by his side. Iris was a few feet behind — she was always near Faust, only separating for moments at a time. “…Alright, you all are dismissed. We’ll call for you when it’s time. Any of you who brought weapons, put them on the wall over there.” As instructed, Celia dropped Recital where designated. She saw a few other weapons placed there as well, making her feel relieved it wasn’t just her or Iris bringing weapons. Chevalier, Hearse, 鏡花水月, Walpurgisnacht, 太虛幻境, РАСКО́Л. Ryoshu seemed unwilling to put her weapon away, but no protest was made. Celia returned to her spot. “Go, handle yourselves,” Vergilius said while waving. Almost instantly, different groups split off and went their own ways. Celia stood there for a few moments, gazing at Rodya, before turning to Sinclair. Suddenly, she forgot her plan.

Sinclair was somewhat abashed, and with his glasses on he could see her outfit perfectly. It was all so cute… “W-well um, Celia. How about we look around for a book store..?” It hadn’t dawned on him till now, how hard it would be to make it through the day with her, without being reduced to a red and bumbling mess.

“O-Oh, right, yes.” She approached a holographic screen with a map of the entire terminal, including the off-limit areas. “Hm…” She quickly grabbed a map too, just to shove into her pocket in case they got lost. “Ah, right here. The upper floor.” Her finger gravitated to a small icon with a book on it. “…should only take a couple of minutes to walk there.” Shyly, she extended a hand for Sinclair to hold.

With a brief blush, Sinclair takes her hand in his. He would take off his gloves had they been away from the prying eyes of other sinners, but for the time being this was fine. “Lead the way.” He smiled warmly at her.

When he looked at her, her stomach filled with butterflies. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to eat with how much he was making her uneasy. Celia walked alongside Sinclair, head bowed to the ground as she carefully navigated the terminal. Occasional doors were boarded up, or stores had iron bars locking them away, but most of it was sleek and new. How odd, Celia thought. Eventually, she stood in front of the bookstore, looking over to Sinclair. “This should be it…”

Sinclair found it peculiar how some stores appeared to be closed. Was it too early for them to open up shop? Sinclair gave an affirmation to Celia before heading in with her. The sheer size of their stock was enough to have Sinclair’s head spin. It’d probably be easier to list the books they didn’t have.

Despite having her mask on, Celia visibly lit up in wonder. “Woah… the shelves are almost endless here.” She hugged Sinclair’s arm in excitement, letting out a childlike gasp. “Ah, there’s so many things I could get—“ Right, a gift is one of them. When realizing she had a bit of an outburst, Celia adjusted her mask sheepishly and stifled a small laugh. How embarrassing…

Cute! She's way too cute! "Ah... um... how about we split up for now then? There's so many books, and it'd help us save time if we individually went looking." Sinclair partially meant what he said, but he also didn't want her to see him buying books on the piano, as it would be far too embarassing.

“Mm, okay. I’ll see you, then.” She scanned their surroundings quickly, making sure the coast was clear. After confirming no one was nearby, Celia moved her mask slightly to plant a small kiss on Sinclair’s cheek. Then, she let go of him and put her mask on before dashing off. There was so much to explore, so many opportunities of books she could buy — history, art, literature, even books about other people. Celia’s mission begins.

Sinclair was left dumbfounded in the middle of the store, and felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. When he finally felt was able to calm down, he began to browse the shelves. His first priority was finding a book on the piano. While he didn't have one to practice with, reading might be able to refresh his memories on when he did play. However, he found some interest in picking up other books. Cooking was one that came to mind. It seemed handy, and as of late he had developed an interest, among other things.

She scanned all of the shelves, debating what topics she wanted to pick up. Maybe Celia could pick up better cooking skills so she could do better when helping Meursault. Or maybe… ah, books on relationships? Wouldn’t that be obvious? She scanned the titles - I need something subtle, Celia thought. She took one, slipping it between two other books. Perfect. She smiled as she walked to other shelves. Another book on piano, a novel she remembered Iris recommending, a Color Fixer’s biography. She had about 5 books now, varying in size. This is enough. Now… a gift.

Sinclair was pretty sure he had enough in terms of books, now all that's left was to wait for Celia. Hmm... Sinclair got an idea, albeit one he wouldn't be able to bring to fruition till later today. He stood by, holding his books.

She needed a few more minutes. As she passed by other things that weren’t just books anymore, Celia’s face lit up. She grabbed a few more things— notebooks, pencils, pens, etc. Then, her eyes were set on a small machine. Put something personal, receive an unforgettable trade, she read the etching on the top of the glass box. “…” Celia thought about what she’d sacrifice. She took the stopwatch in her pocket, placing it into the machine. It whirred gently, seemingly crushing the stopwatch in the darkness of its depths. The item that came out… amazed Celia. How did it… She took it, grabbing some newspaper to wrap it up. It’s cute… he’ll love it. Celia soon made her way over to Sinclair. “Okay. all done.”

"Ah. Perfect... lets pay and see what's next then." Sinclair ushered her towards the checkout, attempting to pay for both his and her items. He rifled through his pockets, before placing the Ahn on the counter.

As she watched him place the Ahn down, she put her hand out. “Ah? Sinclair, I have money, I can pay for my own items—“ The worker, whose face seemed to be obscured with a translucent face shield, laughed at their interaction. Taking the money, Celia could no longer protest. She placed the wrapped item on the counter. “Separate this from the main bill, then.” “On it.” Handing the change back, they then scanned the gift Celia had and took the Ahn she held tightly in her fist. Give a nod, receive a nod. They then placed it in her hands, and she quickly concealed it. Mm… how nice that was, she thought to herself.

Sinclair gave her a small nod. "Just consider it a gift then." Sinclair was feeling a bit more comfortable around her, and was willing to come out of his shell a little for her. "Is there some other stores you want to visit, Celia?"

“Ah…” She took her items from the counter, really taking a moment to think. Celia really had to think about it. “…Are there…? Oh, right. There is.” Celia could feel her cheeks getting warm again as she held the bag of books close to her. “Uhm… don’t make fun of me, but there’s a candy store I remember Sei told me about. C—could we go there? They also have candles, I wanted to buy one or two of them.” The request was made with the softest voice, Celia obviously being embarrassed to ask.

"Of course! L-lets go!" Sinclair grabbed her hand again, and smiled sheepishly. "I-I take it you know the way..?" Just stay cool Sinclair… you’ll be fine.

“I can figure it out.” Which was a smoother way of saying, I have zero clue besides verbal directions I was given. Interlocking their fingers, Celia walked forward and lead the way. Although she didn’t entirely know where she was going, something in her kept giving her clues. Following a trail of pink, a smear of cyan, a gray pair of wings and a smoky haze of red. Passing an orange blur, storming along a violet cloud. Glancing at a pink rose, bathing in a blue halo’s glory. Eventually, her almost aimless steps got her to where she needed to go. “In here!” She said, having another moment of childlike joy.

Sinclair couldn’t help but laugh and smile when he was with her. He thought the sun and the moon of her, and there wasn’t a reason for him to think otherwise. “Mm… Celia, I’ve just got to stop at a nearby store to grab something for Yi Sang… can I leave you to shop alone for a few minutes?”

“Mhm. I’ll make sure not to wander off, but…” She figured out how she wanted to say this, almost a bit unwilling to separate from him. The words seemed to come naturally, though. “…Come back soon, okay?” And with that, she let go of his hand and excitedly walked into the store. Ah… I don’t know what I want, there’s so much I could get…

“I promise.” Sinclair saw her off into the store before heading his own way. I feel bad… but it’ll be worth it. Sinclair could only cross his fingers that she would like it as much as he thinks she would.

Sometimes, Celia feels bad that she regards her seonbaes so highly. Taking all of their advice, letting them guide her so much — it was because of one of them that she’s now here, splurging on so many new things for herself. Her trail gravitated towards the candles first. A wall of scents ranging from ‘Rainy Musk’ to ‘Fresh Spring Day,’ there were even more weird scents that matched some of the candy and sweets in-store. Eventually, Celia just blind-picked one. “Mint Tea…? Hm.” Then, she decided that some candy wouldn’t hurt. ‘Some’ then became ‘a lot,’ and now Celia was paying for two bags of candy for her to possibly share with anyone who asked. She knew she couldn’t eat it all herself. When she checked out, she avoided making any eye contact. Was it out of shame? Possibly. Not that she’d be judged, but perhaps this was just Celia trying to make up for lost time. With items in tow, she sat on a bench to wait for Sinclair. In the meantime… hmm, let’s try some of this.

When Sinclair finally came back he was a little winded, carrying a messenger bag at his side. He evidently had been running in order to minimize the time spent separate from Celia. “S-sorry… I’m back… a-anything else you want to do?” Sinclair couldn’t help but smile in her presence, as if it was a compulsion.

When he came back, all he could see was Celia staring blankly, a pink sour belt slowly rising behind her mask. She was eating. How cute. “Mmhh… non. All good. You?” She was carrying everything in her larger bag, but kept one of the smaller bags of candy in her hand. It was nearly empty.

Sinclair did his best to hold back a snicker. “W-well… I was gonna suggest we get some food… but it looks like you might have already spoiled your appetite. How about we walk around for a bit till your hungry again?” It’s kind of funny seeing the candy move. It’s like the mask has a tongue…

“Mmh… sorry.” She said, clearly getting embarrassed. Putting the bag away, Celia stood and stretched. She could never really turn down a chance to spend time with Sinclair, so the proposal was met with a nod. “We can do that.” Celia extended her hand again for Sinclair to hold, almost doing a grabby-motion towards him.

“I think… we’ll be safe enough for this…” Sinclair slipped off his black gloves, and took her hand in his. “Ready when you are.”

"Ah-- Mhm. I'm ready," She said quietly. Celia interlocked their fingers, squeezing Sinclair's hand three times. I. Love. You. Before they started walking, though, she tried her hardest to get a compliment in. "Oh, uhm.... Sinclair, you..." She choked up on her wordsd for a moment. It's not that hard to say, just tell him, "You look cute in those glasses."

“I-I do?” Sinclair asked, almost incredulously, his face welling up with a blush. “T-thank you… um.. I don’t usually wear them s-since they get in the way when fighting…” Sinclair rapidly descended into a stammering mess. “A-ah… um… I’m sorry… c-cute… d-don’t s-say that so suddenly…”

Celia's heart seemed to skip a beat the moment Sinclair's face got red. He's so adorable, she thought to herself. The rush of good feelings made her burst into a joyful giggle, holding his hand tightly and hugging his arm just like she did when they first entered the bookstore. "But I think it's true," Celia justified to herself. "I think you look very cute."

Sinclair was worried that he might ruin the evening by having a heart attack at the rate that his heart was beating. “I-I…” Sinclair couldn’t find words, so with an awkward smile he just started walking with her, hand in hand. If you’re getting worked up now, you’ll never work up the nerve later! Calm down!

Celia tried matching his pace, occasionally lifting her foot a little higher to step forward. It was for a moment that she forgot everything; she forgot her restless night, the fact they were technically at work, that everything and everyone else existed. She even forgot that no one knew about the feelings they had for each other, and how strong they were. Would she have cared if they found out? Not really -- her worry lied in the reaction. Would Rodya freak out, would Iris be worried, would Sei make fun of such an innocent love, would she be admonished for a feeling she couldn't control? But for now, Celia was just focused on the beating of her heart. The hand in hers, the blushing red face that hand belonged to, and the one she gave her heart to. For now, Celia wasn't quite 'Celia,' but the 'Alice' she kept locked away.

Everything felt so much more vibrant with her next to him. The colors seemed to bounce off the walls, the vegetation that danced in the wind, the sound of her laughter filling the air, the warmth of her hand in his. Even this idle affair of meandering through the terminal to work up an appetite felt like so much more. Sinclair felt like a weight he had never known he was carrying was off his shoulders.

In her idle thought, Celia began humming to herself and letting her mind wander. For once, it was like she had no issue thinking and imagining things. Everything in the city she wanted to do with Sinclair -- because, for now, they had no worry about their lives being limited. In a sense, Celia would get a small amount of joy from even dying by his side. The tune she hummed was one she somehow remembered, but never really knew why. It just brought her a certain amount of comfort, and helped her mind stay clear. Clear of anything bad, but especially how nervous she felt being next to Sinclair right now.

Sinclair had no idea how long they were walking, he had lost track of the time. Eventually he started feeling hungry, and popped the question. “Ready to eat yet?”

That question snapepd her out of her trance. Celia turned back to Sinclair, holding his hand just a bit tighter, as if scared to let him go. "Ah... yeah, I'm ready. I have more of an appetite." How much time passed...? I hope we aren't running out of it. I don't want to let go yet.

The strength of her grip was surprising, it almost hurt. “Hmm… is there anything you want to eat particularly?” I think I saw the perfect spot for later while we were walking around…

She eased her grip when she relaxed, pulling his hand to her face to brush it against the bit of exposed skin on her neck. "I... don't think so. I'll let you pick, if that's okay." Leaving the choice in his hands was deliberate - she was curious what he'd pick out for her, considering Sinclair was taking more of the lead this time. Celia didn't really care about what they'd have either way.

“You’ll let me pick? Hmm…” Sinclair knew she wanted to visit a restaurant, but not knowing which one to take her to was a wall that he was now facing. With the varied tastes and budgets of all the different Sinners, the likelihood he would run into at least one no matter where they went was a bit too high for his liking. What’s the worst that could happen… right? “I think I saw a good spot then. A-although if you don’t mind… I just want to take a precaution.” Sinclair wore his gloves just in case what he feared happened, and took her hand in hand once again, leading her to a restaurant he saw while they sauntered about.

Celia almost got visibly saddened from Sinclair putting his gloves on again, but she nodded in understanding. "Mm, I trust you." Those words hold a rather deep meaning. Her trust in him was deep-rooted by now, only growing more as they got closer. She only had a trust like that in one other sinner, but it was seldom brought up. She seemed happy that he didn't get too anxious at just letting him choose where they'll eat.

The spot Sinclair chose was a cozy little restaurant. Nothing too fancy or intimidating, with a hospitable atmosphere. Sinclair held his breathe as they entered, praying sincerely that they wouldn't see any familiar faces. "I-Is this alright for you?"

"Mhm~" The coast seemed clear. Most of the other sinners, if not in more experimental restaurants, already ate and were mostly sticking around to chat or continue shopping. Celia tried hiding their hands by scooting in closer and moving her bag in front of their hands, taking another moment to squeeze Sinclair's hand three times again. I. Love. You.

Sinclair felt like he could just fall apart in her hands. He was glad she was satisfied with the choice, and he waited with her to be served and seated. It had been a while since he was given the privilege to dine in a place like this, and it was made all the more memorable by being able to share it with her.

Fortunately, despite Celia's mask, no one's given her a hard time about it. Even when they were being guided to their seats, no comment or looks were given by any employees. Perhaps she's no longer that eccentric, which was good to her. Ah, a booth... mmmm... As a young girl, she could vaguely remember seeing couples on the same sides of the booth, sitting next to each other to hold hands. Celia wanted to be the same - but she was also somewhat worried about someone walking in and seeing that, then making questions. In the end, she'd let Sinclair make the call. Celia sat on one side of the booth, placing her bags by her feet and minimizing her presence.

Sinclair's brain and heart were going at a million miles a second. The day was almost over. All he had to do was not mess it up at the last minute. I'm not even sure what type of food they sell here... I should have checked...Scheiße... "I had a lot of fun today... thank you." Sinclair smiled at her, polishing the lens of his glasses. I forgot how annoying it was to keep these clean...

"Ah--! I-- I had a lot of fun with you too... uhm..." The sudden heartfelt comment surprised her, and she nearly covered her hands with her face as if they were alone. "I know we don't... get to do things like this often... so, I'm glad this time I'm not just sitting alone at the piano in the lobby." She said, clearly smiling beneath the mask. Celia took a menu and scanned it carefully. Soup, sandwiches, bread and pastries. Lots of options... She didn't want to get something that'd stain her cute clothes. "Sinclair... do you like sweets?" she asked, nose-deep in the menu's endless choices.

"About as much as everyone does... something caught your eye?" The menu was nicely split up into respective categories, making it easy to search for whatever they were craving. Sinclair was a little surprised that Celia still had sweets on her mind, after working her way through a rather decently sized bag already. ...Can Dante reverse cavities...?

Like a child who was taking a chance to finally have dessert, Celia held no signs of slowing down. She wasn’t nearly as bad as some people on the bus, but Celia was one to splurge when her mood was right. “Oh, just something to share. I think I’m ready to order.” She kicked her feet a little, seemingly not too concerned about all of the sweets she’s consuming. Celia eats very well already, it surely doesn’t hurt to spoil oneself for a little… (edited)

"O-oh... in that case I think I'm ready as well..." Sinclair was completely lying. He wasn't sure what at least 80% of this menu was. Just get lucky... Just guess right... Maybe some of Rodya's gambling luck rubbed off on me... or something... (edited)

As a waiter approached their table, Celia suddenly fell silent. She seemed to only speak more when with Sinclair. When prompted to give her order, she quietly pointed to the items as they were written down- a chicken salad, water, and … she seemed to skip out on the sweets, perhaps changing her mind. Although she should be tired of chicken after seeing it so much, Celia justified it to herself by reasoning that it was grilled and not fried.

"Um... uh... Macaroni and cheese... a-and... juice?" ...I ought to read faster next time. It seemed pretty hard to go wrong with a meal that was as simple as this. Here's hoping...

The waiter nodded. Celia then dipped her face back into the menu, then flipped it and pointed to one more thing. The desire for sweets overrides the potential of being full. I’ll make room. Noting the last addition, they seemed to disappear into the vastness of the restaurant, taking the menus from them. Celia put her hands together and laughed. “That was easier than I thought.”

"Y-yeah..." That makes one of us... Now that Sinclair overcame that hurdle, he could get back to enjoying himself. "How have you been getting along with everyone Celia? I've been struggling to get along with most of your group... I think some of them... still are bitter about it. B-but I like to think that most of us come off as approachable..."

The question made her head tilt. Celia admittedly hadn’t put much thought into it, but now that it was in the forefront, she began to really look into her interactions with her coworkers. “…Hmm, I think it’s fine. I don’t talk to many people, it feels unnecessary. The ones that talk, I let them talk.” The subtle jabs at the chatty Rodya and Sei made her let out a quiet laugh, as if poking at their habits was amusing. “The rest, well. If they don’t stare at my mask trying to read me, we… don’t interact much. I think it’s good, though. Too many friends makes things hard. … I like Iris, though. She’s introduced me to a lot of you guys. I look up to her.” The little praise at the knight was met with Celia putting a hand on her cheek. She was understating how much of an inspiration she was, almost being idolized by Celia for her many feats before and during their time with Limbus Company. However, in Celia realizing she spoke too much, she got quiet again.

"I-I think Miss Iris is pretty admirable... she was the first among you guys that I was able to speak to... I kind of wish I could be like her." Of course, Sinclair left out some the more... interpersonal details. Especially regarding certain groups. It was nice though, to make brief conversation. Sinclair kind of wished this moment could last forever.

Celia nodded in agreement. She looked around just to see if anyone was in close proximity, as well as how secluded their space was. It… wasn’t safe enough. She couldn’t take off the mask here. “Maybe as I work here longer, I’ll get to know the others more. I dunno.” Celia tilted her head up at Sinclair. “I do like you, though…”

Sinclair looked like he could faint. "D-don't... I-I mean I do too! L-liking you that is, n-not liking me... I-I mean I... ah." Sinclair bashfully hid his head in his hands. "I-I told you not to be so sudden..."

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it~” She coyly said, tilting her head in an endearing way. Sometimes, Celia knew exactly what buttons to push to help herself out. It was a little skill she learned while observing Rodya, who seemed to get anything she wanted with just enough charm. “…I-I mean, it is true, though.”

Sinclair wanted to shrink down so that no one could see him, or some other manner of way to get away from his embarrassment. Unfortunately, he possessed none of those capabilities, so he sat there resembling a tomato. "I-I mean... I also... like you a lot...i-in that way..." Sinclair couldn't bring himself to say precisely in a romantic sense, as it was far too embarassing. (edited)

“Mm, I understand.” Celia looked down at her bags, carefully scanning the items. Candles, books, notebooks, pencils… the gift she bought earlier, still wrapped neatly in the newspaper. She pondered when she’d give it to him. How nervous she’d be, knowing what it was and what she lost for it. Did I really need to….? No, it was worth it. When she returned her gaze to Sinclair, Celia seemed to lighten up.

When Celia inspected her bag, it reminded Sinclair to double check his. Yep... it's all there. It was a pretty sizable chunk of what he had saved, but it would be worth it. Sinclair continued to reassure himself, smiling when they looked towards each other again.

His smile is so cute. Celia, how could you let yourself be so weak?… Ahh, I should just enjoy it. He’s so nice, too… Right as she was getting lost in her feelings, the waiter returned with their food. Celia’s salad and water was put in front of her, and Sinclair’s macaroni and juice was in front of him. They then placed the cookie Celia ordered to her side, gave a polite bow, and walked away. It’s bigger than I thought — perfect.

"Ah. I guess it's finally time to dig in." Sinclair hadn't realized just how hungry he was feeling until the food finally landed on the table. Still he exercised restraint, and focused mostly on her, as opposed to shoving food into his mouth. His order was a bit childish and simple, but it tasted good at least.

Once again, she’s scanning her surroundings. In the case she needed to quickly cover up, Celia only took off the bottom half of her mask — it was placed beside her plate so it was just in reach. On her face was a small, genuine smile. One of a girl enjoying herself, taking in a precious moment with someone she cared about while ignoring the tragedy of the rest of their lives. She ate in a delicate manner, trying to savor the meal. It would be the last case of freshly made salad she’d have for a while, thanks to the limited options in produce Limbus Company could get — although, this pit stop might bring up the quality for a brief period. Most of her mind was on Sinclair, though, even if she was actively eating. Celia struggled to keep him out of her mind.

Between mouthfuls, Sinclair spoke. "B-by the way.. Celia. There's somewhere I want to take you after this, before we get back to the bus."

“…hmm!!” She was surprised by this. Wow, he’s really stepping up. “O-chay…” She murmured with food in her mouth. Upon realizing she had spoken with a full mouth again, a hand went to her face to cover. Pff. “…Mm, mm.” She then hummed in understanding. I wonder where that is.

Sinclair giggled a little at the sight of her mishap. "D-don't worry... I don't mind. A-and don't worry... I promise it's nothing serious... just something I think you'd like." Sinclair was probably infinitely more nervous than she was currently, but it never hurt to try and soothe spirits, just in case.

“Mm.” Celia just kept eating, but between bites she occasionally would smile to herself. She thought about what he could take her to, what he thought she’d like. Does Sinclair really think about me that much…? The thought of it alone made her want to squirm in excitement. She’s clearing through her food fairly quickly. Celia’s used to eating fast, from slim dinnertimes and getting her portions in — or just wanting to get back to her usual activities.

Sinclair was a little slower than her, in part due to him always being told to pace himself while eating, and in part due to him not wanting to embarrass himself. When he finally finished, he was rather satisfied, which was nice given the one thing he had consumed in the past two days was the stew Rodya prepared. “How was your food?”

“Mm? Ah. Delicious… i’ll miss this for a while.” She pushed her clean plate to the side, then picked up the cookie. Celia was a little embarrassed with how much sweet stuff she was eating, but how else will she fully enjoy the sweet feelings going through her mind? The cookie was picked up, and delicately split in half. Celia got a small napkin for hers, pushing the other half towards Sinclair. “…For you.”

“M-me? O-oh!” Sinclair was joyful at the gesture, and was more than happy to bite into his half of the cookie. It had been a while since he got to enjoy a sweet like this, so he took his time with it.

Victory. She carefully bit into the cookie, one side at a time. If anyone else were with her, they’d probably point out the oddness of her habit. However, Celia liked doing it this way. It was rather cute, like watching a bunny eat.

It was interesting for Sinclair to keep track of her peculiarities. Of course, everyone had their own distinct ways and habits, but never had he paid attention so closely to them than now. “It tastes good… I like it.”

“Good. Consider it a smaller gift.” Again, she was quick to eat, and finally was completely full. This would likely keep her fed for the next few days. At least, between this and the leftover candy. Right on time, the waiter had walked by their table and dropped the bill by the edge. Celia’s eyes scanned to see if Sinclair could take it, and she could propose to handle it this time. Something to treat him…

Sinclair was already running his hands through his pockets the moment they were presented with the bill. …Wallet feeling a lot lighter now. He put the money on the table before standing up. “Just gonna wash my hands… be back in a moment.”

Celia furrowed her brow. “Take your time.” As he left, she pulled out her own wallet. A lot of money was still leftover, she had scraps from when she first joined — it was perks of growing up rather wealthy, with whatever family was left to support you. For her, it was just a few aunts and uncles by now. Quietly, she swapped their money out and left a bit of a larger tip. Celia dipped her head low as if to not get caught, but laid Sinclair’s Ahn right where he was sitting. …I hope he doesn’t get mad over this. Celia raised a hand to alert the waiter. And just as quick as they put the bill down, they took it right up. She felt an urge to lament their career’s pitfalls, but it wasn’t entirely in her place to. “…” Celia put the other half of her mask on, sliding it into place.

Sinclair felt painfully tense, I just hope she doesn’t take it the wrong way… Sinclair almost started washing his hands with his gloves on. Deep breaths. You’ll be fine. The soap had a nice smell. He couldn’t decipher what it was, but it was pleasant. Before Sinclair left the bathroom, he looked in the mirror to ensure his hair wasn’t out of place. Gotta look my best for later… When Sinclair emerged, he made his way back to Celia. “Ready to go?”

“Ah?… yeah, I am. Uhm…” She gently placed her fingers on top of the small pile of Ahn she left. “I handled the bill. I had extra saved up, I wanted you to save it.” She then quietly gathered her things, slowly exiting her seat. He’s so cute. I’m lucky that I got along with him of all people…

“You didn’t have to do that… but thank you.” Sinclair was a little disappointed. He had been hoping to take it upon himself to finance this outing. He gathered his Ahn, stuffing it back into his pockets. “Hmm… getting late. Let’s hurry then, I’ve got something I want to show you.”

She wanted to be even, someone important to her always told her about how sometimes it’s better to split everything evenly in a relationship. Relation….ship. Was that what they called it? Is that what this is? Celia didn’t exactly know, but it felt like the right descriptor for this. Ever since Sinclair had confessed, and she knew in her heart she felt the same way, that felt like the right description — not like she knew anything else, either way. Nevertheless, she was head over heels for Sinclair. And that proved true right as she was quickly taking his hand again to walk beside him. “Mm. Ready.” (edited)

“Y-yeah.” She’s so precious… Sinclair had seen just the spot earlier. It was a little terrace, carved into the side of the Terminal. A few beds of flowers were there, which made it a somewhat scenic locale.

As they got closer to it, Celia only seemed to light up more. It was cute, romantic… I wonder who taught Sinclair all of this. For a moment, she forgot they were in public, but she kept her composure. “…” It’s hard for Celia to contain her wonder right now.

“You’re welcome to rest wherever… it’s already so late… I can’t believe time went so fast…” Sinclair ran his hands through the bag he bought, fumbling with something inside. “There’s something I want to show you… whenever you’re ready.” (edited)

Putting her bags down, Celia sat atop a small bench, adjusting the sleeves of her sweater nervously. Time did go fast, but there was a saying for it — something like, ‘time flies fast when you’re having fun.’ And surely, these two were having a lot of fun. “Ah, uh… okay. I think I’m ready.” She tapped her fingers together to keep herself busy, suddenly feeling even more nervous than before. What … did he get her?

From the bag, Sinclair produced a camera. “I saw those photos in your room… and I know it won’t replace what you’ve already lost, but I think it would be nice to make new memories.” Sinclair felt his face heat up. “Celia… would you like to take a photo with me… so we don’t forget this moment? No matter what?”

If her mask weren’t on, her entire face would be red right now. She could barely speak, just holding her face in her hands. “Ah- I- Sinclair…” This meant so much more to her than she could ever say to him. “Y-yes, but I also have something to show you after this.”

“A-alright… just give me a few moments.” Thankfully, the camera came with a stand, which Sinclair spent some time fumbling with. It took a few minutes but he managed to get it to stand with the camera, and loaded the film into it. “Let me see… a ten second delay… should be fine.” After he set the camera, he quickly ran next to Celia. (edited)

In the ten seconds, Celia took off her mask — in this moment, it’d be fine. She can put it back on right after. Celia looked over at Sinclair, then starting to smile naturally. Thoughts in her mind rang about where she wanted to put the photo, how happy she was, and wishing the moment would last forever. “…” All she could do now, was smile like she never has before.

When ten seconds finished, a clicking noise from the camera filled the air. There was a brief whirring, before it printed out a photo. The sight of it was enough to make Sinclair’s heart melt. Celia was truly happy, and her smile had been preserved through this photo. “Here… keep it with you.” Sinclair handed off the photo to her, and began to stow away the camera. “I hope we’ll get the chance to do something like this again…”

Putting her mask back on, she took the photo and shook it in joy. “I’m gonna put this up in my room… thank you…!” Celia tucked the photo away in a safe spot, then went through her bags to find the small paper-wrapped gift she bought. “Okay, be really careful when opening this… I found something in the bookstore that offered me a trade, so this is worth a lot.” Cupped in her hands, it was held out for him to take.

“Ah? Oh… I feel a bit guilty you’d get something so costly…” Sinclair gently retrieved it from her hands, and carefully unwrapped it

“It’s okay — the actual monetary cost wasn’t much. I gave up my pocket watch for this…” Inside the paper was a small, delicately crafted statuette of a precious moment between the two — in Celia’s room, playing the piano together. It was as if it were taken from Celia’s memory itself, put into a smaller form. The tree was accurate, their items on the piano, their nervous and overjoyed expressions. The first moment they really connected, immortalized forever. “…I don’t know how it did this, but… I think it’s worth the sacrifice, to keep that memory forever.” Celia put her hands behind her back, anticipating Sinclair’s reaction.

Sinclair trembled a little as he held it. “I… how could you give up something so precious to yourself though? I…are you sure I can have this? It’s beautiful…” Sinclair delicately put it in his bag, before wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. His voice didn’t carry very far, but that’s alright, he only wanted her to hear it. “I love you…” She already knew that though.

“I—it’s yours, I promise.” She hugged Sinclair back just as tight, nuzzling into his cheek for a moment. … He said it. Even if she knew, it was that much sweeter when he said it. Celia’s voice was weak, quiet, but she gave a response. “I love you, too.” Right as she finished, she looked up and saw a blue blur drenched in blood, briefly approaching. It stopped, looked back, and stood for a moment. When Celia’s eyesight cleared… It’s Iris. Oh no… it’s Iris. I didn’t want this to end yet… Iris smiled, turning around and walking away. She knew better than to interrupt such a sweet moment. “Ah.. Sinclair.. I think we should get going now.” She hoped he didn’t notice anything, although his back was turned to what Celia saw.

“R-right.” Sinclair released her from his embrace, his blush still painted over his cheeks. Today would be unforgettable, that’s for certain.

She picked up her things, heart pounding fast from … well, a first date. “I’ll run ahead so they don’t get suspicious,” she said. Part of Celia was also curious about what she saw of Iris. When she was ready, she half-dashed to where she expected the other sinners to be. A couple of them were drenched in blood, mostly those who brought their weapons — it seems those who did, but were unscathed, weren’t there for whatever happened. Did I … miss something? Celia picked up Recital, putting the strap of it over her chest. She looked at Iris, who seemed unbothered by what she saw and the fact she was covered in something’s viscera. She glanced at the girl, gave a nod and a wink, then turned back to Faust. Celia looked back briefly to make sure Sinclair was still there. (edited)

Sinclair was flabbergasted, and picked up the pace to approach the blood soaked Sinners. “A-are you guys alright? What happened?” A fight? Here on the Terminal? And I thought everyone left their weapons behind. (edited)

Ishmael was the first one to answer, head hung low. “Someone got too close to the more worn down parts of this place, and lured out some abnormalities. Next thing you know, half of the west side was swarming with them, and we had to fight them off.” We were on the east, Celia recounted to herself. “How was I supposed to know there were abnormalities? I thought this place was safe,” Rodya groaned. “At least the kiddos are fine…” Dante seemed to be avoiding any comments, simply keeping their head directed towards Vergilius. “We’ll be fine, we can wash off on the bus. If anyone needs, the pools in my room are open,” Iris offered to the others, holding her skirt in one hand. Celia’s stomach churned. She was suddenly forced back into the reality of her job, and in the most uncomfortable way. (edited)

Sinclair sighed. Couldn’t be helped… you’ll probably have ended wearing that ID again… “Oh.. sorry we couldn’t be of any help…”

“Don’t worry about it. We were making sure the rest of you had a good time,” Iris reassured. Celia admired how kind and professional she was. They hailed from the same district, and Iris was formerly a well known fixer… Celia almost felt like she was working with a childhood hero now. If that’s the case, I guess I’m thankful. I won’t forget this. Faust looked back at Celia, then looking to Iris. Outis coughed. “Ahem. Quit dawdling and get back on the bus,” she ordered on behalf of Dante. Slowly, everyone filed back on, making their way back to their seats. “Is our break… now?” Celia asked. All she received was a nod. Perhaps they received good graces for the trouble of fighting off all those abnormalities. I guess I’ll have to clean up and put my things away…

Sinclair made his way back on the bus and to his room. As empty as always… He didn’t really have a shelf, and the space that appeared when he needed clothes didn’t have much room besides that, nor did he want to risk anything. He gently put the bag in the corner of the brighter half of the room, and placed the statuette nearby. Sinclair was glad that at the very least, the limited control he had over his room could make a restroom. Although before he stepped into the shower, he considered what Iris had said, and was somewhat curious as to what it could look like, and being able to wash off at the same time would be nice. It was an open invitation… Sinclair made his way down the hall to Iris’s room.

The door opened slowly, and Iris was behind peeking at whoever was knocking. “Sinclair. Come in,” she said, opening the door wider. As it was before, Iris’ room was a blank void, filled with different pools of water surrounded by plants of varying cyan and lavender hues. Some swords were dangling from the endless ceiling, swaying in the delicate wind, while others were stabbed into the ground, oozing blood. In the center of the room was a cross and a bed of flowers, likely where Iris rested. “The further you walk, the more pools there are. Just be careful not to slip, okay?” She said, smiling down at him. Rodion and Ishmael were already bathing in a pool together, seemingly chatting and trying not to start an argument about who started the scuffle and who continued it. Sei appeared to just be sitting alone, basking in the sourceless light of the room. She seemed at peace for once. Before he left, though, Iris pulled Sinclair in. She was careful not to get any blood on him. “I apologize if this worries you, but I happened to walk in on you and Celia before you both returned… I promise, I won’t tell a soul. Be careful.” With that, she gave him a small pat on the shoulder, turning around to make sure no one was drowning or about to start anything. How kind. Celia chose to stay behind, but took a chance to put away her things and change into more comfortable wear. She sat on the bus and listened to scraps of chatter, mostly consisting of sharing plans and theorizing about what changed with Mephistopheles.

Sinclair was rather flustered when she suddenly alerted him of what they saw, but there was no point in fussing about it. At least he hoped there wasn't. He was looking for a pool away from most others, maybe just to close his eyes in and let the stress of the day break away. He wasn't precisely sure how to approach it, and he was definitely not asking anyone else for guidance, so instead he brought a few extra towels. He wrapped a towel around his lower half to cover himself, before slipping into the water.

Iris walked back to the cross, looking behind it. She arranged a few items, then looked towards the other pools. Her hospitality was something often criticized, but she considered it a humble task and part of her duty as a knight... she played that role so well, that even Don Quixote began looking up to her on how to be so noble. "Sei, are you faring well over there?" "Just fine. No need for you to worry.... thank you for your kindness, though." "Any day, my lady." "Hey! Why don't I get called 'fair lady' or something nice like that!?" Rodya called, clearly wanting to have some playful banter. Iris was simply smiling to herself. "I pay respects to noblewomen, former or current. If you'd like, though, I can do the same for you." "That'd be real nice," Rodya sighed. The chatter of the women made the normally still and peaceful room lively. In the distance, towards Sinclair, was Yi Sang. He was simply staring into the water, not needing to bathe, but just examining his reflection. Perhaps he was also enjoying the sights.

Internally Sinclair had to thank Yi Sang, as he had used him as a scapegoat to sneak off and buy the camera. It would be best to leave him undisturbed regardless. The temperature of the water was pleasant, and Sinclair found himself comfortable enough to close his eyes and soak.

Eventually, Iris was able to bathe herself. She didn't ever mind being coated in blood, but she wanted to sleep clean tonight -- in the case she was able to sleep. Eventually, Sei and Rodya left the room, cleaning up and drying themselves off. They joined the front of the bus, where things seemed neat and orderly. Celia and Meursault were reading one of her books, where he was re-formatting some of the information for her so she would easier understand it. Gregor was playing cards with Don Quixote, who was trying her hardest to hide the fact she had no idea what she was doing. Others were simply trying to keep to themselves, like Frankenstein being nose-deep in her notebook writing everything she did or saw of note today. Celia occasionally would look over to her and want to ask a question, but her fear of the much-older scientist kept her quiet. After a few minutes, Sei seemed to disappear into the kitchen. Things continued as normal.

When Sinclair was finally done, he hid in a corner to dry off and slip back into cleaner clothes. As he left, he gave a small smile of appreciation to Iris, both for allowing him to rest in her room, and for not telling anyone about him and Celia. It was a nice day today...

She waved back to Sinclair, soaking in the water of her room. She anticipated that no one else would need to enter, so once Ishmael and Yi Sang left, she'd finally be alone -- and able to talk to Faust again. Back on the bus, things simply... continued. By now, Rodya joined the card game, staring over Gregor's shoulder and trying to offer advice despite the fact he was clearly winning. Celia stopped reading, instead staring out the window and replaying the memories of today. I wonder when I'll be able to do that again... At least, she did that until a loud crash was heard in the kitchen. The entire bus fell silent -- their heads all turned, until the doors opened widely to an enraged Sei grabbing the empty wrapper of what was once her cake.

"One of you.... ate my cake. And if I find out WHO it was...--"

Three heads shot towards Heathcliff. He was an easy scapegoat, knowing how often he got into squabbles with Sei. Celia was hiding her guilt, remembering the alibi Rodya implanted into her; If anyone asks, blame Heathcliff. Sei noticed the direction everyone's heads turned. Heathcliff was now staring back... All Celia heard as she turned away was Sei climbing over the seat, her sleek black hair flying behind her in a frenzy. A fist was readied, another tried to block it, but she landed the punch either way. Suddenly, the tension seemed to burst. Rodya's shoulders went up in discomfort -- How could such a small thing land such a hit? Holden even looked shocked, holding Meursault's shoulder and trying to shield him from any impact. "Oi, woman, why'd you immediately come to me!?" "I know it was you, what other filthy, brutish pig on this forsaken bus has been UP MY ASS since I got here?" "Why, you... how--" "I don't want to hear it. You could've at least asked, you know! Did no one teach you manners in the backstreets?! Geez, did they teach you ANYTHING?" That seemed to be a bit too close to home for comfort. Heathcliff was already preparing to get out Revenge, Sei gripping the handle of her kodachi to unsheath and split it into two. If someone didn't act, Dante would have to rewind soon. Rodya looked to Celia to see if she had anything to do with it. Celia was almost frozen in anxiety, holding her mask tightly to her face.

Sinclair spilled into the kitchen, having barely made it to his room before the crashing from the kitchen started. He ran into the kitchen panting, clutching Vogel tightly, only to be relieved to see that there was no terrible monster that breached its way on the bus, and instead it was just his coworkers about to tear each other to shreds. S-shouldn't someone say something...? Vergilius will lay into us if he finds out that they killed each other over cake...

I really need to say something. Weapons were being picked up, people were trying to react, all wondering who'd alert someone else. Donqui even gazed at Dante, who was looking from the other side of the viewing window, fearing the worst. Eventually, Celia couldn't try and hold it in. "Sei!" Celia shouted -- it was fairly loud, enough to shock everyone in the room. "Celia...? What, do you know something?" "I... ah... I--It was me, I ate the cake." Rodya sighed. Gregor furrowed his brow, even Holden looked gobsmacked at Celia's admittance. Sei seemed to visibly calm down... but just for a moment. Her head lowered, and she dropped her weapon, pushing Heathcliff away from her. Then, in almost a flash of light, Sei nearly tackled Celia into the ground. She held the younger sinner by the neck, grip getting tighter and tighter. "A--I'm sorry, I just...--" "Sei, put her down! I'm sure she didn't mean it, and you know what's gonna happen if you hurt someone else," Rodya tried reasoning, already fearing the worst. In a moment like this, Iris would be the ideal person to de-escalate. But she's not here, and Celia might die from the sheer amount of pressure being put on her windpipe by someone much smaller than her.

Sinclair couldn't help what happened next. As if his body moved on instinct. As if propelled by fear. Someone he loved dying right in front of him. And the power to stop it. Before anyone knew it; Sei had become a red smear, and Sinclair stood over the mess clutching Vogel so tightly that any more force and he might split the polearm, looking as if he had gone berserk. When he realized where he was and what he had done, he dashed back to his room. Blödmann! Even if she died it's not like she'd be gone forever! All you did was get yourself in hot water with her and Vergilius! Sinclair pushed into his room, and slammed the door behind him shut. ...Why can't it just be easy..? (edited)

At least it was him...Anyone else would've been less forgiving. As Sei's body collapsed, Celia also slumped into a defeated, half-sunken pose. Donqui first got up with Gregor, holding her body up to make sure she didn't faint. Donqui kept her entire palm on Celia's face -- she was holding the mask in place, which was slipping off Even Heathcliff was concerned, grumbling swears to himself but keeping an eye on Celia. "That blasted wench... needs to keep her mouth shut.... Celia. You alright?" "...Fine." "She'll be okay, and so will Sei." Rodya looked back at Dante, who almost seemed terrified to intervene. This new wave of sinners were all much less refined and prone to outbursts. "I'll make sure Sinclair doesn't get much flack for it, it was a defensive measure. One death is better than three. Celia, bud, just breathe." Gregor was trying to comfort. "I'll clean up the mess," Meursault stated simply. Frankenstein got up to follow, her expression overcast with a sense of disdain. Celia struggled to breathe. She was more concerned about Sinclair, but in moments her eyes would close and she'd cease to live until the clock was rewinded. The last words she heard were both Rodya and Heathcliff shouting at Dante to reverse the clock ... and then her eyes opened. Sei was on the ground, still hunched over and quiet. "Verg will talk to you in the morning, Sei," Gregor said calmly. Holden even wanted to get a comment in, but he kept to himself and simply left the room. The others had it handled. When Celia got up, she simply waded to Sinclair's door. No knock, just her body slumping over into a pathetic pile upon herself. Heh... I'm sure she didn't mean it either, she thought to herself.

Sinclair was sitting in his chair, staring absently at the ceiling. He'd have to go clean Vogel later, blood still fresh on the blade. But for now he just wanted some silence. I thought I got better... at controlling myself. I guess not... Sei probably wants to tear me to ribbons… hopefully Vergilius is in a good mood… better to be chewed out than be beaten bloody. Sinclair shifted uncomfortably in his chair. I hope Celia’s alright…

After a few minutes, she gathered enough strength to stand up and slowly open the door. Immediately knowing the safety of the room, Celia shed her mask. "Sinclair...?" She was quiet, almost trying to minimize her presence and not disturb him. But right now, she needed his comfort, and felt it went the other way too. The adults -- er, the older adults will handle the situation. It'll be fine... Right now, she's just desperate for his touch. (edited)

Sinclair turned his head towards his guest, and instantly was embarrassed by the sight of Celia. “C-Celia?! You should have… it’s a mess…” Sinclair stood up and hurriedly shoved aside Vogel, only making a bigger mess with the slick of blood stuck on it wiping onto the floor. “Damn it… sorry. My room isn’t much…”

"It's fine." She rushed to his side, immediately hugging him. Celia didn't protest or make a comment about the room, either. Right now, it didn't matter. "Thank you... so much..."

“A-ah… oh. It was…” Sinclair couldn’t seem to find his words, ultimately just sighing. He forced a smile out, to try and lighten the mood. “I just… got scared… of losing something I cared about.”

Celia was burying her face into Sinclair's chest, just holding him tightly. She was clinging... as if scared to let him go. "Hehe. I knew she'd lash out like that, but... I didn't expect you to protect me." She left out the part of her dying either way, but at least it wasn't at the hands of another.

Sinclair mumbled a little before sighing. “I…I just wish I wasn’t so impulsive. I didn’t mean to… y’know. But it feels like most of the time my body moves before my head.” Sinclair pulled Celia towards the lone chair, situated in the border of light and dark. “P-please, take a seat.”

“Mm.. you sit first.” Although there wasn’t much space in this room, unlike hers. But Celia will make do, and she is going to make sure Sinclair is okay. They’ll handle the mess later, she simply didn’t want to let go right now.

“U-uh. Alright…” Sinclair sat down on the wooden chair. About as comfortable as always… “Are you sure you don’t wanna sit..? I’ve only got the chair and I’d rather you rested… especially after what happened earlier.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” She moved over to him, then carefully lowered herself onto Sinclair’s lap, taking his hands delicately. Celia smiled. “This is just fine.”

“Ah… ah… ah?” Sinclair went from feeling blue to turning red almost instantaneously. What? What? Huh? What? Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat- Sinclair couldn’t stop himself from descending into a gibbering mess.

Celia took a deep breath, holding Sinclair’s hands right over her thighs. “I-I’m sorry, I felt this was the best option. A-and I wanted to be close, I… I need it right now.” Admitting it with her face exposed was hard enough - Celia wasn’t facing him, so he couldn’t see how red she was. “I hope this is fine.”

“F-fine! Fine. It’s totally fine… I-I’ve never been better!” Sinclair finally spat out when he worked up the nerve. He was red up to his ears by this point. Sinclair felt like he might just melt right in his seat.

“Considering a few moments ago, I… question the second part.” Celia closed her eyes. She was almost shaking, but something felt so exciting about this - in the way she felt excited about holding Sinclair’s hand.

“I… maybe? I don’t know…I’m fine. I’m certain I’m fine. Yes…” Sinclair was practically on the verge of sawing his tounge off with the way he bit onto it. “I-I… hope you’re fine also?”

“I’m better now. Not even upset, I just hope Sei is okay… I heard she was noted to be emotionally unpredictable…” Celia held a hand to Sinclair’s head, gently stroking his hair. This moment was theirs, just to calm down. Her heart was calm and steady, very relaxed in his arms. “J—just rumors, though.”

“Right…” Verdammt… last thing I want is someone as unstable as me to be breathing down my neck… “I think I’ll apologize when she’s… in a better mood.”

“Mhm. I might buy her another cake, actually.” Celia turned her head, somewhat nuzzling herself into the top of Sinclair’s head. If she weren’t limited by a number of things, she’d almost be trying to crawl into his skin to get closer. She sniffled. “Mm… as long as you’re okay now, that’s good.”

"Yeah... I'm fine..." Sinclair turned a bit more red, but it was nearly impossible for him to blush any harder. "Thank you... f-for coming to see me. I appreciate the comfort..."

“Ah- mhm.” Celia stared ahead, simply keeping quiet. Moments like these were what she wanted most. Even if they were in a less than desirable situation, she found solace in Sinclair’s presence. “This is for me, too. I wanted nothing more than to be near you after that…”

"R-really? Erm... thank you... I. Hm.." Sinclair would reach to ruffle the top of her head, if not for the fact that she was basically resting hers on top of his. I've never had a girl this close before... o-or anyone for that matter...

I can feel his heartbeat. He’s nervous too, hehe. Celia just kept herself quiet, holding Sinclair’s hand within hers and occasionally moving to push her lips against the top of his head. Even if it was killing him, she was simply trying to keep that connection and ground herself. You’re okay, you’re alive, and he’s alive. All is well. Admittedly, this room is not the best for bonding with one another.

Is there something I should say? Maybe it'd be best to just let her get her share of affection... not that I mind what she's doing... Ugh... Rodya would know something here... I'll just... deal with it. Somehow.

Eventually, Celia stood still. She had given enough affection, and tapped her heels on the ground quietly. “Mm… thank you.” I don’t know what’s into me, he should have stopped me by now. Mmm….I guess my own restraint is enough.

"O-oh. Yeah... happy to help..." I think I helped? Sinclair also stood up when she got off him, his face still coated red. "I... Thank you Celia... your presence was appreciated." He did his best to smile back to her.

She turned towards him, expression blank. “…Do you think you’ll be okay? Or do you want to stay with me?” She left the choice in his hands, happy with either decision. They spent a lot of time together today, but Celia didn’t mind having another presence there with her. It also meant another night for Sinclair in a cozy castle, able to sleep comfortably. “I—it’s whatever you want most.”

"...I'd like to come with you..." Sinclair felt guilty for inviting himself in, but he meant it when he said it. "I feel a lot happier that way. Being able to see your face." Sinclair reached out for her hand.

“Okay~” She sighed deeply, letting out a breath held in for a while. “Ah, I… forgot something earlier.” Before she turned to grab her mask from the floor, Celia quickly held Sinclair by the face and closed her eyes, kissing him on the lips. By no means was it a good kiss, but both of them basically had nothing to go off of. So for a first kiss, it was sweet and quick, possibly something to let linger on the lips for a while. “Ah— er— for the … the photo. Mm.” She turned away with a smile, picking up the mask and putting it on briefly.

Despite her previous display of affection being something most would consider far more intense, This kiss was much more sudden and shocking for Sinclair. He stood still for a few moments afterwards, as if trying to piece together what had happened. Then he put his head in his hands to hide his rapidly reddening face. "Y-you..."

Celia took his hand. “…” She giggled to herself. Three squeezes, once again. Although she wanted it to be a bit more special, Celia would’ve stayed up all night if she hadn’t done that. Dwelling over her perfect chance to land a kiss, right after taking a photo to seal the moment. Part of her even feared the chance would’ve been missed in the far-off possibility she wouldn’t have been able to be revived from the mishap in the kitchen. Besides, if we stay alive long enough… this will be a story to tell far in the future. She considered that enough, but would not make much comment or acknowledgement for a bit while Sinclair stewed in it.

Sinclair kept with her, but seemed to be unable to speak. He felt like his heart might erupt into flames, as he held onto her. It was almost cruel, that now he had her, he could never live again without her.

She took his hand and lead him out the room, peeking down the corridor both ways to see if anyone would notice their quick escape. Coast is clear. Celia quietly dragged him to her door, opening it into the vastness of her room. When the two of them were in, she shut the door and took off her mask again. More of her lighthearted side was coming out, as she was now laughing to herself and holding her face in her hands. So cute.

By the time they finally got to her room, Sinclair was feeling more like himself again. "G-geez... You're always so full of surprises..." Being away from prying eyes meant that Sinclair could unwind a bit more, which he was more than eager to do so.

“Oh, you’re able to talk now,” Celia teased. “…Hmmm. It’s just- fun to watch you react. I think it’s cute.” Poised with near indifference, she ran forward to the piano in the center of the room, where all of her purchases of the day were lined up. He can’t see these. All of the books were stowed away in the library, and the bags of candy shoved into the shelves of the desk in that same room. Celia walked out right after, holding a small lighter for the candle she bought.

(early send aaa)

3:23 AM

“Huh? So is that what it is…” When she put it like that, it suddenly made a bit more sense, although he wasn’t entirely convinced most people would find him turning into a red mess at her affection would be considered cute. A lighter. Usually there isn’t much reason to carry one in the bus, unless you were one of the smokers.

“Mhm.” Celia kept quiet about the fact she was also simply doing what felt right, based on observations of the other sinners who appeared to have similar relationships — Rodya and Gregor came to mind specifically. It was no secret the two were close, every ‘babe’ and ‘darling’ rolled off of Rodya’s tongue nor naturally than her nicknames for every single one of her coworkers, but Celia occasionally witnessed how truly affectionate the woman was. Part of her felt it was what proper couples do. The other example, Iris and Faust, wasn’t particularly standard. From Celia’s view, they simply were rarely seen apart, always talking in Iris’ room or standing side by side. Maybe affection is not needed for them, Celia would reason to herself, but I think I need it. Bringing herself back to the lighter in her hand, she waved it around and smiled. “Fun fact; The tree can’t light on fire.” Picking up the candle, Celia ignited the lighter and held it up to the wick, watching a pale white flame flicker in the dim light of the room. Placing the candle down, she watched the smoke carefully rise and dissipate into the air. Suddenly, Celia was calmed.

“I don’t know if I want to know how you found that out…” Sinclair gazed intensely at the flame as it danced. Sinclair had always had a particular affinity towards fire, in the way that it was something that had existed for so long, but no technology could ever truly replace. But despite that, it was impermanent, it would consume the fuel that sustains it and eventually burn out. Sinclair let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, allowing himself to loosen up a bit.

“I figured it out in my dream.” Such a simple response, with layers of implications. Celia sat in front of the piano, carefully watching the flame. Slowly, she began to almost improvise a melody that accompanied its flickering. Few things in life were as natural as flame, music being one of them. Celia found solace in candles because of the scent they bring, forging memories she’d never forget. She often finds herself trying to find a specific candle for a specific memory, unaware that the keys to such moments are not so simply acquired. Nevertheless, she tried, and just like now … Celia sought to find a memory in this candle. Mint Tea.. I’ve never had this before. As she played, Celia’s heel tapped the rhythm that the little candle’s fire danced to. She paused. “…come, sit.”

Sinclair moved himself into the space next to her. He was hoping the next time he’d be sitting next to her at the piano, he’d have time to read up a little, but no such luck unfortunately. “You know… with your talent you would have been pretty popular where I came from..:”

She continued playing, hands moving as if reciting a familiar tune. “Really…? Heh, well I…” She bit her tongue. Suddenly, a face became clear in her memory. A star pianist, the one who lent her her talent, a performer who inspired Celia… Her brother. She stopped. Violently repressing that memory, that face, she blinked and stared into the flame. “…” Let’s not think about that. Celia smiled, then carefully leaned back into playing the piano. “…Maybe, if I grew up elsewhere, we would have met a different way, and had a different relationship.”

“O-oh… yeah. I think… I would have liked it if we met under different conditions… but I’m still glad I met you…” Sinclair continued to absently gaze into the flames. Almost like he was waiting or expecting something of it. “I think… there’s a lot of things I wish could have happened under different circumstances. That’s not something I can control though.”

All the candle did was keep a steady, pale flame. As it burned brighter, Celia’s music intensified. When it eased down, she played softer. The memory of her brother still lingered in her mind, no matter how much she wanted snuff it out. She continued burying it with memories of Sinclair instead, imagining what life could’ve been like if… If Hans never died, If he never let her in, If she got to say goodbye, And if everything would be alright. Would they have been friends? Would they be close like they are now, or just passing school friends, never able to get a single moment together? Would Celia really like that change? She thought on and on, eyes now staring towards her hands. “Mm… I agree.” (edited)

Sinclair saw a part of himself in the fire. It was something that could not wholly be controlled. It caused harm all the same as it helped. Gentle in it’s warmth, and all-consuming in it’s wrath. Sinclair slowly began to nod off to the relaxing melodies, his head leaning onto her shoulder.

As he leaned on her, she shifted the melodies to be softer and more relaxing. Her heart began pounding faster, trying to keep cool while her mind flooded with thoughts of how adorable Sinclair is. Ohhh no, oh nonono… he’s falling asleep on me… aahh… how cute…! Celia eventually slowed down the music and fully stopped, staring into the flame for a few moments. Delicate, potentially dangerous, but so beautiful… and full of life. That’s… what he is. I have to be the wick, then, letting that flame burn brightly until it desires to die out. And our love… Is the wax, sweetly scented and melting as we unite. Celia smiled. She put the flame between her fingers, instantly extinguishing it. She felt better, finally. (edited)

The last thing Sinclair remembered before his eyes fully shut, was the smell of her hair, the warmth of her shoulder, and the music that filled the air. All of these things were important to him, because she was important to him. He couldn’t help but dream, of a world where things were a little more fortunate for them. He could hold her hand in his hometown, walk her through the streets without worry. No need for a uniform, nor a weapon, because they only needed each other.

Celia held Sinclair’s hand in hers, smiling to herself as he fell asleep. Well, now I have to get him to bed. She didn’t know how much of a light sleeper he was. Now was a time to figure it out, as the girl picked up her sleeping companion and held him bridal style. How she had the strength was unclear, but she seemed to struggle very little. Onto the platform, and up to the tree. Since discovering it, many things have become easier. That would’ve made the dream more pleasant to endure… And still, Celia carried Sinclair to her room. Gently placing him down, she sat beside him and picked a book off of the shelf. It was… empty, besides where she left the photo he took. Holding it between her fingers, Celia thought about how things could have gone. It’s useless to wish like that. She looked down at Sinclair. Would it be okay… for me to lay next to him…?

Sinclair’s slumber remained undisturbed by her, his gentle breaths being his only movement. It’s rare for Sinclair to sleep so peacefully, many nights he would thrash about or awaken in fear. But he felt safe with her, his faith deeply rooted in the idea that no harm could come as long as they were together.

I should just bite the bullet. Celia removed her shoes and leaned over, kissing Sinclair on the cheek. She pulled Mirai over to the other side of the bed — she didn’t need to hug it tonight, Celia had something almost better. Settling into bed was the easy part. Just pull the blankets over, wrap her arms around Sinclair, and rest her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. …Staying was the challenge. She was nervous, being so close and holding him so tightly. But he was at peace. She was safe with him. “…” Celia closed her eyes, taking in Sinclair’s warmth. It didn’t take long for her to sleep, too, cuddling him with no intention to let go.

Instinctively, feeling warmth on his chest Sinclair held tightly to it. He was not eager to abandon comfort while he still had it, and kept her close to his embrace. The soft beating of his heart filled the absence of noise now that she was resting her head on his chest.

“…” She finally had a nice dream. Nothing ruined it, it was simple and beautiful. She was in school again, talking with classmates she’s never seen before. Blurred faces, obscured names, but all the same uniforms. A boy in her class caught her eye — meek personality, cute blonde hair, golden eyes, and the talk of the other students. Hm… what would I have done, if I met him like this? She wanted to impress him. Or, at least, make herself seem approachable. She played piano well, much like … someone, which made her a figure of wonder among classmates. Even that boy, Sinclair, noticed her in this dream. He wasn’t as skilled, but he admired her talent, and she admired his kindness. Maybe we could’ve been friends… had I not… It wasn’t long before she began spending her lunch times with him, learning about his family and where he came from. Celia knew she had to say something, to let him know what she was thinking. And in that case, I would have… Before Celia could say anything to that Sinclair about how she felt, she woke up. Woken up from a false dream. She rubbed her eyes, reaching for where Mirai should’ve been — but only Sinclair was there. Celia was a bit too sleepy still to really react to the fact they were in her bed, holding each other while they slept. …He’s… warm… (edited)

Sinclair stirred a little, as he reached the tail end of his rest. If Sinclair was aware of how tightly he held her, he might be too embarrassed to come out of the room for the rest of the day. Instead he enjoyed a peaceful dream for a little while longer.

Instead of getting up immediately, she kept her head on his chest, taking in the warmth of the embrace. Hm… Hearing Sinclair’s soft breath, feeling his heartbeat matching hers, watching the waterfall in the window pour alongside a gentle rain. Celia wished she could stay here forever, protected from anything that harmed her. And, knowing Sinclair would be a blubbering mess the moment he woke up, she took solace in his calmness. We can just enjoy this…

When Sinclair finally opened his eyes and his gaze found Celia, she could hear his heart pick up in pace, and his body heat up. “G-good… morning… at least I… think it’s morning…” When did I fall asleep? And when did she get so close? (edited)

“Morning,” she whispered. Celia yawned, placing her hand on Sinclair’s cheek to gently hold. Seems like she was still waking up, carefully turning. She buried her face into his chest. I don’t wanna go yet…

Sinclair gasped sharply when she burrowed her way further into his chest. "O-oh... I suppose this is fine... for a little longer..."

This was the first time they were cuddling, holding each other so close. If Celia had her way, she’d stay like this forever. However, things in the City don’t work quite like that. “Mmmhhh……..I…laahhfff you….” She let out in a muffled whine into his chest, hugging Sinclair just a little. So warm…. So warm and inviting…. I want to stay in your arms forever…sleep like this forever… (edited)

Sinclair couldn't help but feel a bit of warmth well up in his heart by just hearing her say she loved him. He simply hugged her a little tighter, and let the both of them enjoy this moment a little longer. So cute... I don't wanna let go if I can help it...

Celia breathed deeply. Waking up from her dream wasn’t so bad, because now she was with Sinclair, no need for a school or any kind of impression-making. By now, other sinners are waking up. Rearing their heads to work another day, maybe even having breakfast. But Celia was still in bed, cuddling Sinclair, bedhead and everything. Mmh… he smells nice.

Sinclair played with her hair while she rested her head on him. It was long and soft, and he couldn't help but lose himself in the feeling of it around his fingers. How much longer till we're due to get out of bed...?

Celia took in one big breath, then lifted her head up. A small grin was on her face as she looked at Sinclair. Ah, to live like this forever…. I could just tell you over and over again that… “You’re handsome.” The words slid right off her tongue, almost as if unintentional.

"H-huh?" Sinclair wasn't expecting her to be so sudden nor straightforward with her compliments. He wasn't even sure if she was conscious enough to realize what she was saying. So instead, he just lightly pet the top of her head.

“Mmhm… You’re very handsome… Rodya told me… boys like hearing that.” With a lack of filter, Celia was soaking up all of the affection and spitting out even more. I want… to kiss him.

"O-of course she did... I... think I understand where you learnt everything now..." Sinclair felt a little concerned that Rodya had been her "teacher." But he ultimately elected to keep it to himself. Honestly, he felt a little foolish for not realizing it sooner, given how much time the pair spend together.

“Mmm…” When she is fully awake, Celia might not remember all of this. Clouded with sleepiness, warmth, and affection, she nodded. Then, Celia pushed her head forward. Her nose brushed against Sinclair’s, nuzzling into his face. Then, she left a kiss right next to his lips. “Mm… mwah.” Right after, Celia planted yet another kiss right on Sinclair’s lips. This one was a little longer, almost lingering for a moment. She definitely isn’t going to fully remember this.

One would think Sinclair had fainted with how quickly he fell silent. Instead, he laid there paralyzed with his lover atop him, his heart on the verge of beating out of his chest. The redness on his body seemed to take over every last inch of him, as he attempted to fathom what precisely had just unfolded.

“You ok?” She asked this innocently, as if she hadn’t just incited this sudden silence in him. Celia wiped some hair from her face, looking as if she were moments away from falling asleep again. “…”

Sinclair was pulled out of his stupor when she spoke, allowing him to speak with bated breath. "Y-yeah...I-I am..." She's...I don't even know what to say... (edited)

“Mmmh. We gotta get up now,” Celia complained. She hugged Sinclair one last time, stretching and eventually leaving her bed. Celia adjusted her shirt and shorts before slipping on her shoes, stretching again and yawning. She turned around, expression utterly blank besides a small grin. “I want to hold you more.” There goes the ominous, awkward side of Celia. As if she never just smothered Sinclair in affection, half-awake. Perhaps she had already forgotten and repressed it to save her from the embarrassment. Either way, she likely needs to pick up those books on relationships before she kills Sinclair with affection.

Sinclair felt like melting into a puddle. Manifesting all his willpower, he was able to stand up and look somewhat presentable for the day. "I-I'm sure you'll have the opportunity to do so later..." Sinclair gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Ready to start the day?"

That squeeze was what took Celia right out of her haze. “Ah— right. Yeah, but … I’m a bit worried about the follow-up of last night.” Suddenly having those memories flood back was like waking up from a night of drinnking to a hangover. She even started dreading going back to that dull life, enjoying the escapism of her room and the little moments like these. “We’ll… be… okay.” As she got quieter, her eyes full of light began to seem a little downcast, void and empty. Whether it was her reacting to the influx of emotions, or simply adjusting to the change in environment was unclear. Celia quietly left the room, standing at the edge of the canopy while staring at the stone platform ready to carry them down.

Sinclair followed after her. She needs some encouragement... Sinclair was a bit embarassed, but he took the initiative and gave her quick peck on the cheek. He hadn't quite worked up the nerve to go for her lips the way she had. "I-It's alright... Sei can't stay mad forever... probably. And Vergilius will either not care, or just assign us cleaning duty..."

“You’re right.” She took his hand, stepping on the platform. Although by now she had already closed herself up, a pink tinge was on her cheeks — signaling that perhaps that kiss did wonders, underneath the surface. He’s right, she can’t be mad forever. And one of the last things I heard was that Gregor and Rodya would try to have Vergilius spare us. When it lowered them back down onto the ground floor, Celia quickly retrieved her mask and Recital, putting both on and adjusting herself just a bit more. “If you need to go grab your jacket and clean your weapon, go ahead and do that. I’ll be out soon.” She inhaled. “O-Oh, and… I love you. Don’t forget that, please.” It seemed by now she was trying to remind him, as if it’d be the last time she would say those words to Sinclair.

"Of course. I never will." Sinclair gave her a goodbye, before going towards his room. Vogel would need to be cleaned, although there weren't many great spots to do so on the bus. Thankfully, his room seemed to restore itself to a "base" state, so although the weapon still had blood on it, the slick left behind on the floor was gone. He retrieved his jacket, and contemplated how to clean the gore off his armament.

Celia grabbed her jacket, sliding off her weapon to put the jacket on first. “…” Staring at her reflection, she almost lamented how much she had to repress everything. Ignoring the truth has its toll, and the more she saw the self she lost come back when with Sinclair, it became more difficult to push everything back. Is he… somehow still out there? Waiting for me? What am I saying? She blinked, shaking her head to clear her mind. Stepping out into the corridor, Celia made her way up to the front of the bus. Instead of the usual livelihood of it… it was near silent. Rodya looked on in relief. Gregor refused to make eye contact. Heathcliff even seemed tense, sitting next to a Sei with all visible signs of life drained from her. What did Vergilius do…? Even Hong Lu was unable to look Sei’s way, when normally the two were joined by the hip. Celia looked towards Vergilius, who seemed to disregard her entirely. I guess he’s pardoning me this time.

It took a good while, but Sinclair awkwardly managed to clean Vogel by manifesting the washroom in his room, and washing it there. The tension was so thick in the bus that you could push a knife through it, and he wasted no time to move into his seat. ...This is the worst...

Vergilius also seemed to be rather forgiving towards Sinclair. Iris glanced while briefly rising from her seat, gave a nod, and then sat back down and crossed her legs. That was the sign that we got saved, wasn’t it? Celia thought. Considering Sei’s near deranged disposition right now, she got a number done to her. Even Ryoshu could tell it was a somewhat mortifying sight — a normally pink, self-important cherry blossom now reduced to a dead branch, eyes devoid of any light. I’m sorry…. “Now,” Vergilius said, looking at Dante, “I’ll excuse the incident last night, for only one reason; I made sure that she will not cause you any further trouble. And in the case she does…” “Yo. Aren’t you a little too big of a dickhead about this? Strawberry Shortcake’s already stewing in her shame, don’t rub it in.” Holden blurted out, brow furrowed. Receiving a cold glare, he shot a mean mug back. Every head in the bus turned to the man, as if knowing he was making a grave mistake. Fortunately… Vergilius only sighed. “Transgressions from an insect aside, yesterday was stressful. I am trying my hardest to be nice, especially with the new sinners. Keep your weapons to yourselves, and your unsavory judgements from now on… and we’ll ride smoothly.” No one responded, but the message was well-delivered.

Sinclair bit on his tongue. Crap... it really got that bad? He elected to keep his head low and mouth shut, Vergilius is probably not in the mood for any more fuss, so he ought to forget about doing anything out of line for now.

The bus was silent for a while. People kept staring, making quiet conversations through looks (or hand signals, if you’re Holden). Sei, through her colorless seething anger, was glaring directly at Sinclair. She seemed bothered by the fact he was the one who killed her, but the anger would dissipate soon. Sei was one to be known for her erratic mood swings. After a while, Iris raised her hand. < Yes, O Holy Knight? > Dante responded in a lighthearted manner. “Where are we going, what’s our plan?” She asked. Vergilius stood up again. “Alright, I guess I owe you that after our detour. Given we handled yet-another contract within District 11, that same office signed another contract for us to snuff out some backstreets scraps of their office to prevent further infection. So that is where we’re headed, to one of those hives.” …Infection? Hives? “Luckily for you, if you get too close to those things, you won’t be affected for long. Is that enough of an explanation?” “Thank you very much, sir.” Iris said, putting her hand down. “You’re welcome.” Celia felt uncertain, but she kept her head up in curiosity. After the last ordeal with that office and their chief operator distorting, she felt there was endless surprises to be had.

Sinclair could feel Sei boring a hole into the side of his head with her stare, despite his best efforts to act otherwise. I'm not sure I follow Mr. Vergilius's explanation fully... but it sounds like whatever those things are, make for a quick death. Sinclair was suddenly grateful for the range his weapon provided, as opposed to Meursault's or Yi Sang who demanded being up close and personal. He was tempted to turn to the neighbors in his row and strike up a conversation, but ultimately found himself dissuaded. In this situation, Sinclair found that pretending to disappear would be for the best, and decided to stay quiet and as motionless as he could be.

It seems with that question, the tension on the bus faded slowly. Conversations began, even if one participant was stuck malding in her own seat. Celia turned towards Holden. She stuck her chin on his seat, staying quiet. They had a brief, but positive exchange. “Hey, Celi. You okay?” “Mm.” “Ah, quiet as usual. Yknow, you’re around the same age as my baby sister. I’d hate for her to be as quiet as you.” “…” Rude. “N—not, like, being rude. You vibe how you wanna, I respect it. But if she never talked to me, I’d lose it.” “Well, Sinclair doesn’t mind if I don’t talk to him.” “You’re friends with him? The little dude?” “You can say that.” “…Do you even make friends?” “…” “Damnit. And just like that, you’re gone. That’s cold, Celia.” “No, I just thought about my answer. I don’t think I need to.” “Damn right. Fuck most of the people on this bus.” “Mhm. You included.” “What?” “…” “Okay, fine. Be that way.” He scoffed, folding his arms and turning to the window. Celia seemed to like this response. She looked towards Sinclair, waving in his general direction to hope Donqui or Yi Sang could think it was for them — an easy cover. It worked, as Don Quixote enthusiastically waved back.

Sinclair saw Don Quixote wave her hand in the air towards Celia, shaking it like a bee had stung her right on the palm. He looked towards Celia, and presumed she was sending it towards him, only to end up with the wrong recipient Meekly, he gave a quick wave as well, before guiding his gaze back away from Sei's general direction. It felt like a minefield to try and interact with anyone more than a few inches away on the bus right now, between Vergilius and his coworkers. I hope this is easy...

Crossing the border into the backstreets, the entire scene seemed to change — as expected. But this wasn’t the first or last time they’d been in the backstreets of a district. Expectations were set, and these … were beginning to p “Ho!! I doth see where we may be stopping,” Donqui cheered with wonder. Rodya and Outis looked out the far window, the former grimacing at the sight. As others begin to notice, their expressions changed accordingly. Ryoshu looked maddened with delight, Hong Lu was curious, even Iris’ brows raised in surprise. Standing in front of a building engulfed in what appeared to be inhuman viscera, pulsating and growing with rotting vegetation… was a nearly white blur. A halo much like iris’ was near its head, carefully spinning and flickering. The bus screeched to a halt at that instant. Many braced for impact, but Celia sort of hit her entire body on the back of Holden’s seat and sunk to the ground. Ouch. Dante stood up. < Wait. Celia, please stay back for a second. The rest of you, wait and prepare please…. > Celia stood up on command, her stomach sinking. Is she in trouble? She hoped not.

Sinclair tried to stead his breathing once the bus stopped. Alright. Here we are. Just stay cool, nothing will go wrong. In terms of preparation, there was little for Sinclair to do, as he already had his weapon and was fully dressed for the day. Still, he remained at the ready for whatever order may come next. I wonder what Dante needs of Celia...

As Dante walked to the back of the bus, Celia followed. Most others knew what this meant. By now, it’s become clear that Celia needed extra care with ID extraction. Her blank slate of a person meant that she was like raw uranium in terms of looking into mirror worlds, any small detail overlooked and it could mean an unstable Celia. Their gazes were kept on the window for the most part, but some were lining up to don their mirror world selves in preparation. Iris stayed behind — she was plenty strong enough to not need the help of a mirror, knowing who was out there and what they were dealing with. In the back of the bus, Dante lead celia to a dark room. She was already shuddering, walking up the stairs slowly. Not again… She sat upon the chair. Staring up at the ball of chains, Celia looked back down and stared at Dante. As the chains moved, different fragments of mirrors showed up. They overlapped themselves, showing too many possibilities. A perfect pianist, someone’s partner, an ignorant little girl. Even a cult member passing out orders, a feather of a fallen wing, or a brave knight with a cerulean blade. In the chair, Celia’s image aberrated. She was becoming nothing more than a blur, more and more infinite possibilities showing up. A queen, a student, a sailor. Instantly, Dante stopped. Looking into the mirror, was a devoted knight for a less-than-noble cause. Covered in roses and looking up to a godly figure… < This … has to be it. > Celia’s image formed again, mirroring that image. She rose from the seat, soon following Dante’s steps. She made no sound as they walked down the aisle, holding her thorn in one hand and staring at the ground. Iris’ stomach sank. No, that can’t be… why…? < It was the best I got. >

Sinclair had stayed back with Iris, as he was feeling a bit hesitant to assume any alternate identities for today. The sight was repulsive. The moment Sinclair saw it, he began to gnash and grind his teeth. His grip on his weapon tightened, his body trembled. His mind desperately fighting against his instinct. She's not the same. She's still the one you loved. They're part of the same group. You love her Sinclair. You loved them too. I... Sinclair looked as if he was about to faint from the strain he was placing upon himself.

Iris already was upset the moment that Dante extracted a similar ID from her. This seemed to make her feel even worse, her halo completely dimming into a near nonexistent shadow. The gall to make me become her right hand…. I can’t believe it happened to Celia, too… is it my fault? As she noticed Sinclair feeling uneasy, Iris pulled him in to keep a tight grip on him. Her face was pale. Celia paused, turning towards the both of them. She nearly lunged at Iris when seeing her halo, the thorn stopping right as it reached the knight’s head. My rose… told me not to harm this one. She’s… hers. To claim. And him… why, didn’t the hammer…? hehe. She missed one.

There was an unmistakable fire in Sinclair's eyes when she approached. It was getting harder and harder for him to look at her the same way. The few parts of him that weren't dominated by fury were sickened by himself, for turning his love to hate so swiftly. His breathing quickened and his knuckles turned white. Had it not been for Iris's foresight to restrain him, there would be no assurance that he could control himself.

“Dante. Keep. A close eye. On her.” Iris’ voice was gruff, uncharacteristic of her normally smooth tone. Dante nodded, taking Rootclimber Celia off of the bus. Right as they got off, another stepped on. The same white blur standing in front of the decaying and blighted building was actually a woman wearing a black and white uniform. She looked at Iris and gave a nod, standing in front of Vergilius. “Red.” “Ivory, what brings you to this bus?” “…Order of PredawN? Interesting choice of handling it,” the woman commented to herself. “Ahem. Vergilius, I want to make this easy, but considering how sloppily your crew handled my boss, I’m worried they’ll be blighted by the time they even get close to the center of it.” “I don’t associate with these people, Ivory. We are mere coworkers.” “Oh, and my dear knight is not among them? …I’ll withhold my praise then. You two, come out, I’ll keep the root away from you.” Turning to Iris and Sinclair, she made a beckoning motion with her hands. “Noa, you—“ “Come on, we don’t have time to waste.” Iris let go of Sinclair, following the woman off of the bus. Already, sinners were fighting off groups of rotted civilians, coughing and covered in the same butterflies seen in the office days prior. Celia’s gaze seem fixated on Sinclair, as she idly stabbed away at anything that got too close.

Sinclair made an effort to focus on where he was being lead than the scene unfolding. The sight of these people was sickening, it looked like some horrible pestilence swept through the area. He didn’t quite recognize this woman, but it seemed like she was a fellow of Vergilius. I don’t like any of this… Sinclair remained quiet, and chose to hope for the best.

As Iris stayed back, she talked to Noa. Any information she learned, she simply nodded and would look back at Sinclair, making sure he was fine. Every time she saw Celia glaring at him, though, and occasionally turning her gaze to Iris, she felt sick. Noa turned her attention back so that Iris could focus. Then, briefly, the two smiled at eachother. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Iris. Even if in this case.” “…You too. You got a wonderful job with that office, even if it results in… this. Must be nice not being on the bad side of K Corp.’s executive.” “It is. And you have a colorful bunch of coworkers.” “Hm. You could say that. Hope you enjoy your blight-infested blisters.” “Augh… gross. Go kill those things, Iris. If it gets too bad, I’ll help out.” Iris gave a lighthearted salute. She tapped Sinclair on the shoulder. “If you get too close or you get hit by any of the ones that explode—“ As if on cue, a burst was heard and a sickened shout from a Rosespanner Rep came right after. “—Dante can easily reverse the damage before it gets too bad. But keep a safe distance, or find some way to cover your airways.” And with that, Iris was off, dashing right to Faust to help her. She seemed to be the only one with familiarity to these things, dodging their moves with swiftness.

As Iris jumped into the fray, Sinclair was left by himself. He couldn't stand by idly, and joined the combat as well. The rending of flesh made a sickly wet noise, but it was oddly stress relieving. It felt like the tide of infected was never ending, as Sinners continued to swing unrelentingly. The range advantage of his weapon seemed to be rather beneficial in this regard. Ugh... this is gross... He was able to see his compatriots fighting as well, Some seemed to be struggling due to the lack of range provided by their weaponry, while inversely those with guns from their mirror ID's were rather glad to be able to keep their distance, at least until their ammo ran dry. Every so often Celia entered his field of view as they fought and the sight of her redoubled his fervor, thankfully keeping the main target on his enemies as opposed to lashing out on his coworkers.

The way Iris was slaying the blighted civilians looked almost like magic, the swiftness in her half-awake gaze. Noa even watched on in wonder -- even if Iris was no longer as strong as she once was, she still was a skilled combatant and worthy of praise. Vergilius, treat her well. Celia seemed to also have a somewhat easy time keeping her distance, moving fast and keeping her face covered by her blooming mask. Eventually, though, her urges take over her -- and she rushes right at Sinclair. She reached her arms out, thorn in hand. Tackled him to the ground, raising the thorn as if to stab him. ...I don't need to save him... I don't need to harm him, either. An infected corpse made its way towards them. It crawled pathetically, its stomach expanding and glowing. Such a beautiful coward like you... No, don't do this. Put it down, please. Celia's mask fell to her side, exposing her blood-covered face. rose petals were stuffed into her mouth, peeking between her teeth as she gave a crazed smile. Rodya noticed the scene. She tried to call out, but her calls fell on deaf ears as Celia plunged the thorn down. ...deserves to die. No, stop! The body exploded. Celia mostly shielded the blast, her armor corroding and rotting into her skin. Her hair, now wild and covered in blood, covered her face. She kept her hands strongly around the thorn, twisting it with what little strength she had left before she had died from the overrunning of the blight.

It felt cold, as it descended through flesh, but the pain was burning. He was alive, but not for much longer. Blood welled up in his throat, and tears in his eyes. It ran a little deeper as she twisted, he wasn't sure what it pierced, but it definitely hurt. Still... he tried to talk to her. She had already stopped moving, and he was rapidly being pulled from this life as well. But he tried with each labored breath all the same. "...You... o-okay? Can't... move..." "If... I wore... it... maybe you... would be safe..." Sinclair found it too difficult to say any more words, with what remained of his rapidly draining strength, he covered her face with is hands to prevent anyone else from seeing it.

As Celia died, she slumped over Sinclair's body, trembling until she fully went still. Any others who looked their way were almost horrified from the bloody mess. A butterfly's veiny wings fluttered over to land on Celia's head. It was like she was fossilizing. Noa quickly rushed to their side, trying to knock the butterfly away and keep any other bodies from stacking up. "...te! Dante! Rewind, fast! I got them, just--" She punched through the chest of a blighted corpse with gauntlets that almost put Soleil to shame, ignoring the coating of blood and viscera on her normally clean uniform. Dante hesitated. It almost made him sick how quickly that happened, and how uncontrollable this Celia was. < Did I... make the wrong choice? > By now, the waves seemed to lessen in size, until only three to four larger amalgamations came out at a time.

Sinclair was still alive, unfortunately. But everything felt further away, and he couldn't even feel pain anymore. Even his thoughts were sluggish. Unfortunately for him, unless someone else did the honors, he would bleed out. He faded in and out of darkness, sometimes hearing shouting, sometimes the roaring of weapons through the air. The sole constant was her. As distant as he was from the world, he could recognize the fact that wherever he was, Celia was there. Stay... awake... Stay... here... The only comfort as he felt the life drain out of him was that her flesh was still warm, even after her heart had stopped beating.

Ishmael even gave a sideways glare at Dante, through stinging headaches and vibrating horns. "Come on!" Sei shouted -- much brighter and bountiful, even she's got a boost in energy with a rabbit uniform and a gun in her arms. "Don't wait!" Dante shook. They nodded, and soon began to rewind the clock. The pain felt worth the payback this time, and eventually Celia was starting to breathe again. She coughed out a flurry of rose petals, but the blood stopped running. Her body stopped rotting. She was fine... but nearly re-ignited with the same bloodlust as she looked at Sinclair.

Sinclair felt his wounds sew back together, and everything seemed back to normal. His throat was clear, the world in perfect clarity. She was still on top of him. In any other situation he would be beet red, except for this one. His body instinctively reached for his weapon, but luckily for Dante, it was too far away. Instead he stared up at her, his blood boiling. I love you. Nothing will take that away. I promise. But why... do I want to kill you so badly?

Noa kept guard of the two as they came to their senses, punching anything that got too close. Celia held her mask in her hands, then pushed it to her face. She stood tall. I... I didn't mean to. Without a word, she walked away, going back to mindless combat. Iris looked over at Sinclair and Noa, making sure they were okay. "Soon, one of us needs to go in and destroy the heart. I can do it, as I won't get infected, but you need to cover from the blast." Noa ordered, looking back at Dante. All the sinners seemed to agree to let the Color take the brunt. After all, this was a rare chance they'd interact with one that isn't going to hurt them.

Sinclair managed to get back on his feet and find Vogel. I'll talk to her later... He joined to help fight whatever remained of the infected enemies. It was a disgusting labor, but it had to be done. I want to... talk to her after this.

Right as the last ones fell, the building seemed to expand for a few moments. "Wish me luck, Iris," Noa grumbled under her breath. A few sinners turned around to avoid watching the sight. Celia stared on in interest, lingering near Dante. She still kept quiet, unable to even speak. Noa took off one of her gauntlets as it morphed into a wrecking ball. Suddenly, different groups of sinners began to huddle together and find ways to shield themselves from the incoming impact. Hong Lu shielded Sei and Yi Sang with his body, knowing an ampule would save him of the pain. Ishmael tackled Heathcliff down, who dragged Donqui with him. Iris held Faust close, taking Sinclair by the sleeve as she distanced them. Noa smiled. "Alright, boss, be proud of me." As she swung the wrecking ball into the building, it seemed to burst into a flurry of butterflies and blood. A shriek sounded from the impact, but ... right after, it was starting to shrink. Did they do it...? Some of the sinners were injured by the impact. Some got the viscera on their bodies, a few who weren't fast enough to cover severed into two. Celia... was fine. She looked towards Sinclair, seeing if he was also okay. "..."

Sinclair was breathing heavily still, but the job was finally done. It looked like there were a sizable amount of losses, which was regrettable. By this point, Sinclair was exhausted, and all he wanted was to get back onto the bus. His stomach felt weak, and his head hurt. A tempest of anger and sadness swirled within him, and he would rather sleep off these feelings if he could. He stood by with his head hanging low, staring intensely at the ground.

Those who remained standing were shaken up, making sure that everyone who survived was fine. Either way, another rewind was needed. Noa walked to Dante. "You're not a bad manager, but ... you have area to grow." < I've heard that a million times.> "Our office's doors are open to you all any day, thanks to these two incidents you've helped resolve. However..." < You mean, a Grade 1 office tied directly to K Corp.? I'd hate to have a run-in with that Director, let alone her... > "I can't ensure the operator will be as hospitable to you as I want to be, so please don't over-rely on us. But, thank you. Please treat Iris well, she's a dear friend of mine." Noa turned around, picking up the wrecking ball to make it her gauntlet again. She saluted towards the sinners standing, leaving in a white blur. Dante put their hand on their head. < We're biting off more than we can chew right now, > they complained. A few sinners could silently agree. But they knew that a rewind was now over-due, and getting back onto the bus while Noa likely had another chat with Vergilius and negotiated payment. Now with everyone standing, they were ushered back to the bus. Some went quickly, others lagged behind. Celia walked slowly, head still hung low. "..."

Sinclair, with much trepidation approached Celia. He didn't dare look directly at her, but managed to strain out a few words. "Are you alright Celia..?" There was a layer of venom when he spoke, but it was better than him trying to crush her skull. "Whenever your... feeling more like yourself... y-you can come find me in my room..." Sinclair hoped that she would take him up on that offer, as he felt the both of them could use the comfort.

She didn't respond to him, avoiding eye contact. Since she put on the ID, it seemed she fell entirely silent. I guess I should... No way. Him? How could you walk into a trap like that? I need... a moment. Everyone else filed on, made sure they were fine, and trudged back into their seats. Celia soon came back as her normal self, small and weak in frame, holding Recital close to her. She sat down in her seat, curling into herself. I ... I don't want to remember that at all.

Sinclair was downcast. He couldn't help but feel like Dante needing to use this ID was due to his hesitance to don his N-Corp ID. Seeing someone he loved become a shadow of themselves, was a terrible sight. He couldn't help but wonder, if this is what it was like for everyone else when he wore that ID. He sunk back into his seat, finally able to control his breathing, no longer agitated by the sight of Celia. It was strange, as recently Sinclair had been able to hold himself back at the sight of Inquisitor ID's, but for Celia in particular, it felt so wrong. So antithetical to what she was, that he wanted nothing more than to destroy it. I wish things were different.

Eventually, through the rummaging of other sinners, Celia had almost disappeared entirely. She walked back to her room, simply listening to her footsteps hit the water. A sense of emptiness filled her heart. I … I killed him. Sinclair doesn’t hate me now, does he? No, no, never. He could never. I was fine when he attacked me, I knew it wasn’t quite him. …I wonder, would it have been different if we were both inquisitors…? Or if he attacked first? Celia stepped up to the piano, sitting down in front of it. She didn’t play anything, just looking down at the keys.

Sinclair retreated to his room, if only to freshen up and leave behind his coat. He ended up finding himself sitting in the chair, but the room felt darker than usual. Although it could have been the exhaustion of the day dulling his perception. Will she come..? I don't want to bother her if she needs time... but I ought to see her today... if she doesn't come soon...

Eventually, the anxiety set in. Celia began walking around the perimeter of the room. After a few moments, though, she stared at the piano. Mirai... She grabebd the doll, holding it up. Aren't I a bit too old for you? Why, then, are you still with me? She eventually put it down, leaving the room. I need to see Sinclair. Celia walked to Sinclair's door. She was balling her fists tightly, visibly uncomfortable. Knock, knock. I hope he's not upset.

Sinclair was pulled out of his contemplation by the knocking. I think the decision is made for me... Sinclair opened the door, and hurriedly pulled her into the room. When the door was closed again he pulled her into a tight hug. "How are you feeling now...?"

The moment she was pulled in, Celia's voice quivered. "I... I-I..." She hugged Sinclair tightly, nose burning. Without any more words, the girl burst into tears, weeping into her lover's shoulder. "I-I... I'm sorry.... I... I didn't...." Between gasps and more tears, she tried muttering an apology, but was stopped by more tears. Celia couldn't even gather the strength to remove her mask.

Sinclair felt himself move towards tears as well, simply hearing her sob. "N-no... it wasn't... your fault..." Sinclair couldn't hold it back, try as he might, and a few tears trickled down while he tried to comfort her. I wanted her dead... you're despicable Sinclair... "Don't... c-cry.... it's alright..."

She pushed her weight into Sinclair, trembling in his arms. Celia took off her mask — she was tired of the tears flowing endlessly. “But, b… but… I…….” She blinked the tears away, struggling to do so. She never wanted to hurt Sinclair, but still had the image of him dying underneath her burned into her memory. She wished she could repress it. Shove it back, bury the feelings and the fear. Why is it so painful now to feel emotion?

"Please don't think I hate you... the way I felt towards that ID... is different..." Sinclair pet the top of her head. "I know... how you feel right now... it's okay... take your time. I'm here for you." Sinclair didn't want to think about anything right now, and just hoped that holding her tightly could help him forget.

“Mm… okay…” She kept her face in his shoulder, shaking heavily in Sinclair’s arms. Oddly enough, she almost didn’t want his comfort. “Ah… mm… I—“ She tried to crack a joke halfway through her sniffles. “At least… w—we’re even?” She tried smiling to herself. That would help with the pain.

"I-I guess so..." Sinclair tried to crack a smile. "Take a seat... you could use the rest..." He ushered her towards the chair to try and get her to sit. At least she can still smile...

At his direction, she sat down in the chair, trying to wipe her tears. Celia looked up at Sinclair, trying to keep calm. “Uhm… are you okay, though? I’m sorry, again.” Celia struggled to forgive herself for killing Sinclair, but she’d try her best to make up for it. Somehow. Some way. He’s still so kind…

"I-I'm fine... it was... a new experience. I'm kind of used to..." "..." "I'm used to it being the other way around." It was often him, who killed the ones he loved. Not vice versa. "Please... stay as long as you need to." I wish I could do more for her...

“I don’t want to leave your side.” She words were put quietly, as if Celia was embarrassed to admit it. She removed her gloves, putting them to the side. Celia hung her head a little low. Shyly, she held her hands out for him to hold right after. This job… is too hard on me, sometimes. Am I supposed to toughen up by enduring this over and over again? Actually, Why does it suddenly hurt now?

"Of course..." Sinclair threw his gloves off as well, so that he could hold her hands. He held them tightly. To remind her that she was here. She was with him. He remained silent, but his touch was gentle, and his gaze was loving. If I hadn't come to the kitchen that night... what would be different? And what would be the same?

She tilted her head, breathing steadily. Sinclair’s hands were so soft, and she was so lucky to hold them without gloves. Celia will always be thankful for this. “I—I’ll make sure to make it up to you, somehow…. If I need to die a thousand times over, it’s fine.” She sniffled, putting Sinclair’s hands to her forehead. It was almost like a prayer motion, head down and holding his hands so tightly.

"Don't say that... I'd sooner you stayed here than die for me..." She deserves better... the world is so cruel to something so wonderful... I'll love her. I'll protect her so she remains as beautiful as she is. Even if I have to wear that ID everyday. As long as she can still smile when its over.

“Mm…but—“ Before she could protest, Celia bit her tongue. Truthfully, she would rather not have to die at all, living away from all pain peacefully. Is it selfish to want that? It’s unrealistic, at least. But ever since their first time actually speaking, Celia…couldn’t ever go back. Not to her indifference, her emptiness of being. “I… i’d like that too.”

Hearing her calm down again was enough to warm his heart. He let her keep holding his hands, but he knelt down a little so he could be on even height with the sitting Celia. "If you'll... let me..." Sinclair leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, but not completing the motion without her permission.

She leaned into the motion, nearly letting her cheek touch his lips. Celia’s eyes closed, a small grin forming on her face. “Mhm… any day.” She was a lot calmer than before — normally, she’d simply hug Mirai until the feelings left. But this time, Sinclair was there, and he was very helpful. “…thank you.”

Sinclair let his lips linger on her for a moment, before pulling away. Although he would turn red and redirect his gaze bashfully, the smile on his face was glowing and his hands around her were as tight as ever. "Think nothing of it... just reassurance from a lover..."

“Mm. You’re the best lover one could ask for,” she said with a little giggle. There goes the Celia Sinclair grew to love. She could never be upset for long with him around, their love was pure and genuine. It was enough to soothe the pain of both of their tortured souls, even if only for a moment. “…I wouldn’t have it any other way, really.”

"I'm glad you feel the same way." Sinclair's room looked a little brighter. His laugh was a little louder. His eyes were softer. He even seemed to stand a little taller. Everything Sinclair wished he was, he was with her. Whether he knew it or not, she completed him. She made it possible for him to be a kinder, gentler person. To be a stronger person.

Even if incomplete, a new side of Celia came out when she was with him. The girl behind the mask, the Alice she long locked away in fear of the truth. She laughed more, she smiled, she was awkward and joyful. “I really do love you… sometimes, I wish that things weren’t like this, where we can just be happy together.” But, she admitted to herself, it’s not too bad right now. Something was empowering about killing alongside her lover.

Sinclair nodded. "It'd be nice... to have known you without all the bad things that brought us together..." Sinclair couldn't help but wonder if in every world, he had found himself loving her as well. I'm sure... even in that world. They must have found each other...

"Hm... maybe in some mirror worlds, that's the case." Celia had similar thoughts; she wondered if, now that they were like this, their love persisted. Maybe there's ways we could find out... but with every endless mirror of myself.... is he there, too? She found herself turning her chin up towards Sinclair, eyes half-closed, as if asking for a kiss.

It was embarrassing, but Sinclair indulged her. Descending his lips upon hers, locking himself to her until she wishes to pull away. I hope... eventually I can do this without feeling so flustered... Her lips were so soft, it felt so nice for them to be pressed against his.

She carefully reached a hand up, holding the back of Sinclair's head. Her fingers delicately trailed to his ear, then his cheek, only to carefully move to hold his hand again. After a few moments, Celia separated, eyes remaining closed. Her heartbeat was steady, finally calmed. "I feel a lot better now," she whispered.

Sinclair let out a brief sigh of relief. "I'm glad... I'm a little jealous, I didn't have anyone to comfort me when I first had to wear mine..." Sinclair said this teasingly, although it was also a rather bitter statement. "Have you eaten yet..?"

“W—well, I’m here for you now,” Celia said, looking up with a pleading expression. “You don’t have to be alone…” When he asked if she had eaten, Celia nearly forgot she had skipped out on eating today. “Ah- no, I haven’t. I don’t think I really felt hungry until you mentioned it, truthfully.”

"Mm... c'mon then, lets get you some food." Sinclair slipped his gloves back on, just in case, before waiting for Celia to be ready. I hope... I learned enough from those books...

"Mm? Okay." He's gonna make me food...? She picked up her mask and put it on, taking her gloves and putting them on as well. She didn't specifically have a reason to other than feeling put together. This sudden care was odd, but welcome. Celia felt like she should be comforting Sinclair instead, though.

Sinclair dipped his head out of his room to make sure no passerby’s would see them. When the coast seemed to be clear, he ushered her over into the kitchen. “Just sit down and relax… I’ll take care of everything.” Hmm… what should I make?

Sitting down in a chair to watch him get ready to cook, Celia seemed to be full of light again. “A-Ah, really? How kind of you,” she said, leaning in with a grin. Who… taught him how to be such a gentleman? Cooking for a lover, treating me so nicely… She smiled beneath the mask. Could one say… he’d be a perfect husband? Ah, Celia, again with such childish thoughts. But … it’d be nice to see.

Sinclair rifled through the kitchen, and was surprised to see some fresh ingredients. We probably got them after what happened with the office... It was fortunate he got to it first, before the others found it. There's no telling if they'd leave anything but scraps. He wrestled out a pan, and set the heat, before grabbing his ingredients. Vegetables had to be chopped, eggs had to be beaten, but Sinclair was capable enough for that. I think... this is good.

Celia looked back to see if anyone was close to walking in. She heard the usual rummaging, occasional chatter as people walked from room to room and mingled about the evening. Thinking the coast is clear, she turned back and slowly discarded her mask to hold. You just entered this relationship, don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s too soon to think so far ahead. Celia’s cheeks flushed a bright pink when she looked at Sinclair, but she tried to mitigate it by holding her cheeks. It only made the blush worse. (edited)

Sinclair was presently focused on the crackling of the pan, as he poured in the egg. After that came some peppers, spinach, and cheese. Sinclair was making the recipe of an omelette he had found in one of the cookbooks he picked up. However he didn't want Celia to know that he bought it on their outing together, so he memorized it instead. "Almost done..." Hope it tastes good...

As the scent filled the air, she seemed to lean in closer as if to follow the scent. “Aaah~ Sinclair, it smells wonderful! I didn’t know you could cook….” Celia could feel herself falling in love a little more, as if she weren’t already head over heels in love with Sinclair. Maybe I should cook for him too. Do I remember any good recipes…?

"I... had a little experience in the past..." It didn't go well... but she doesn't have to know that. He was more than happy to not have dropped it on the floor, nor fail in the folding process. Slowly, he slid the omelette off the pan and onto a plate, placing it before her alongside some utensils. "Um... I hope you enjoy it..."

The moment the plate was put down in front of Celia, her entire expression lit with joy. After a few moments, she covered her face. Perhaps the realization hit. “Ah— I— Sorry, no one’s ever cooked for me…! It looks delicious…” She picked up the fork and a knife, carefully cutting a bit of the omelette — despite losing most of her memories, Celia still had her manners. “….mm…. wowwww….”

Hearing her enjoy the food was enough to make Sinclair's heart flutter. He couldn't hide the amusement on his face. "I-I'm glad you like it..." She likes it... right? It's not too salty? Maybe she doesn't like spinach? What if she's lactose intolerant! Scheiße... Sinclair suddenly felt like he might burst. (edited)

Celia ate the food happily. It wasn’t too salty, she even felt a sense of nostalgia while eating. Like a child being given a late breakfast, made with love just for them. Her cheeks were flushed pink. Even if she had no words, it was clear to tell any of what had happened through the day no longer wore her down. “Thank you…!!”

Sinclair couldn't help but let out a small laugh, she seemed so precious. "I-I'm glad... I can always cook for you if your hungry..." I'll have to read more later...

“I’d like that — but I also want to cook for you.” She pushed the plate forward, getting up to grab water. Celia was satisfied — surprisingly, she found it better when others make food for her. “You treat me so well,” Celia hummed quietly.

"I-It's not a big deal... I think um... lovers ought to do things for each other." Sinclair turned a shade of pink. "I... hope I'll be able to cook for you... for a long time..."

She got a cup, filling it halfway with water before drinking most of it in one gulp. a long time… hopefully we’ll be together forever, hehe~ She smiled at the thought, nodding to herself. Celia put the cup down, moving to Sinclair and giving him a small hug. “I think it’s bed time soon…” She lamented softly.

Sinclair flared up at her embrace, but reciprocated the touch. "I won't keep you then... if you want to go back to your room." Sinclair gently pat her on her shoulder while his arms were still around her.

“…” Celia nodded, tightening her grasp briefly. “I wish I could spend every night with you,” she quietly admitted. She found it hard to admit she really didn’t want to let go, even if she’d see Sinclair in the morning.

"I...I could... come to your room... if you want that." Sinclair was a bit upset with himself, inviting himself in time and time again, but it seems like she wouldn't mind it. I want to spend time with her as well... I want her in my life...

“Ah… uhm.” She thought about it. Part of Celia wanted to say yes, but they’ve spent so much time together. She just held Sinclair’s hands for a moment, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I think I’ll be okay, tonight. B—but tomorrow… please sleep with me,” she asked. “…if you want to, that is.”

"O-oh... of course. Have a good night Celia..." Sinclair gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head, and walked himself back to his room. It was drab as ever, but the statuette in the side of the room seemed to make it seem just a bit more homely. Sinclair sat in the chair and sighed of relief, glad that he didn't make any major errors. I do wish... I had a bed though...

As he kissed her on the head, she lit up for another moment. Slowly, Celia grabbed her mask and walked back to her room. She changed into more comfortable clothes, staring back at the trailing of her cloak. I almost feel bad that I said no… but I think I need to give him a bit of space. In the back of her mind, she was starting to remember everything. As she traveled up the tree, walking to her room, Celia sighed. Looking out at the rain, she climbed over the fence and stepped into the foggy darkness. It was raining. The cherry blossoms looked gray, rustling in the wind. With every step, there were ripples of light along the water. What if I never woke up from that dream? I know I didn’t want to wake up then, I wanted to…. To die. But I … don’t want to be awake to this life, either. Staring up at the gray sky into the rain, Celia’s heart sank. She looked into the distance. The same figure stood, silhouette vaguely able to be discerned. You’re here to mock me again, aren’t you? Why can’t I figure out who you are…? Why are you important?

That ceiling.... do I... still want it to change? For the first time in a long time, Sinclair had something he held so dearly. Something he loved so much he doubted, should he ever desire to have his old life back. I love her. But... ... I want her... and I want them... but why can't I have both? Sinclair didn't like that once again, he was divided on something. It felt like the list grew ever longer. ...I'm scared.

Staring on, she found herself unable to move. And… what if I went back? to…you? I can’t pretend not to know, but the more I move on, the more I want to forget. I can’t move on, even if I learn to live … The pain still lingers, compounding and building on itself. She walked more in the rain, soon running at the figure. The moment its face began to show, she shut her eyes. Please, take me back…! It dissipated soon enough, leaving Celia to fall into the water. Tears welled up in her eyes. …Please, let me forget… and … just be happy in the now…

It was a painful thought for Sinclair. The ghosts that seem to linger in corners. The faces he can't remember. The voices he forgot. He swears he can feel them where he goes. Sometimes being haunted is better than being alone. It was his fault. He could never seem to forget that. Even if she killed them, it was him who gave evil the keys to his home. The first sin of man, was the one who damned him to eternity.

As she worked her way to getting up, she balled her fist. I can’t go back, I have to keep going forward… She trudged back to her room, shaking. Maybe now, she needed Sinclair more than ever. I’ll read to get my mind away from it… Celia looked at the books she bought. She took one of them, hands trembling as she opened it. Something about her past deeply bothered her. Spending half of her life asleep meant a lot of her was lost, but she knows what was in that dream. She remembered each loop, the amount of times she tried to stop it. And yet, here she is, out of that dream and having lost why she entered it in the first place. “…” But now, in this new, sweeter dream, she didn’t want to wake up again. To stay with Sinclair forever would be fine… but dreams are meant to end. She couldn’t even read, putting the book away. Her brow furrowed, and she grabbed Mirai. What am I to do, then? (edited)

A swirling mixture of emotion filled Sinclair. Do they forgive me? Do they know it was my fault? There was nothing to distract Sinclair from his shame in the empty room, as he felt his heart tear itself to pieces. I wonder... if they grew to resent me, even in their final moments.

Celia held Mirai close, staring up at the ceiling. Slowly, as her thoughts burned her energy out, she drifted to sleep. I wish… he was here… …to comfort me. Celia curled into a ball and fell asleep, holding Mirai in her arms. She had no dream, not willing to lock herself into another one yet again. I want… you.

Sinclair found himself wringing his hands together, hoping that the pain of twisting his hands in one another would keep him rooted to the world. I don't want... to be alone again... I think... I'd rather be dead... than lose anyone, ever again. And that includes you...

Celia only woke up once in the night, staring up at the ceiling. She looked out past the waterfall again, into the rain. Exiting her bed and slowly leaving the room, Celia made her way to the bottom of the room, walking around the perimeter. Tonight’s a sleepless night. As she opened the door to leave and walk around, she was met with another face. “…Sei.” “Good morning. You don’t mind if I look around and we talk, right?” “….No?” “Thank you, sincerely.” Wearing a dozen robes and slowly regaining her usual color and confidence, Sei appeared mellow and relaxed. Celia felt her anxiety spike.

Sinclair did not remember falling asleep. It felt as if that when he looked back up from his hands, he heard the kerfuffle of the sinners readying themselves for the morning. ...Not ready to go yet... Sinclair continued to sit in silence, looking ahead blankly. Can I... stay a little longer? Sinclair remained seated, instead intending to use all the free time allotted to him.

Sei walked into the room, past Celia — an unmasked Celia. “Wait, your robes —“ “And your mask is off, it’s okay. This room is… a marvel,” Sei remarked, traversing the water in long, delicate layers of robes. The noblewoman stepped up to the piano and sat down at it. “Hey, are you upset still?” “…Truthfully, the only reason I was going to have your blood on my hands was because I was already intent to kill. You could just ask me for food instead of stealing, you know.” Celia blushed in embarrassment. “Right…” she murmured. “I’ve already forgiven you. But this is about Sinclair, rather… You two are friends, right?” Celia found it uncomfortable how much she was speaking. She nodded. Sei leaned in, her pink eyes losing their light in a serious expression. “The rage in his eyes was a little too potent, you know. I think it was something a little more.” “…hmm?” “If you confirm something, I won’t tell a soul. My lips are not as lubricated as Rodya’s.” Celia shrugged. “Likely just wanting to defend a friend.” Sei glared, staring into Celia. “…Is that so? Okay, this talk is over. Let him know he owes me apology, and you both owe me a new cake. Oh, and…” “?” “…Put some flowers here. It’s so dreary, with your depressive mood and all. If you’re totally-just-friends, I think a flowery room impresses anyone.” With unsolicited advice and more unexpected shifts in Sei’s behavior, the princess seemed to leave without much issue. Celia hung her head low in embarrassment. What is with her…? Is it that obvious, or did it take her dying for her to get suspicious…?! (edited)

Sinclair grumbled as he stomped around his room. No days off… Ultimately he pulled his coat over his shoulders, and snatched up Vogel before making his way to his seat. He felt irritated, probably looked the part too. He wasn’t sure quite what the reason was, and the fact he couldn’t pinpoint it only caused him more distress. Just breathe in and out… keep your head on…

As Celia prepared for the day, she was definitely off. Quieter than usual, barely even able to greet the sinners she was closest to. However, everyone was still the same. Making her way up the aisle, Rodion had tapped Celia’s head and handed her breakfast — a small chocolate-chip muffin from the kitchen, still in its cheap and environmentally un-friendly plastic. Eating it while no one was looking her way, Celia appreciated the kind gesture. As the rest of the sinners finished their morning routines and got on the bus, her least-favorite neighbor Holden turned around. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, but with his big, oafish grin, she had no choice but to at least listen. “Yo, Cel.” “…” “Oh, not talkin’ today? Why, did you lose your little cat toy?” “…” “Sorry. That one was kinda mean. Look; me and Heaths. We went snooping around and got some info on people.” “…!” “Relaaaaaax, it was just birthdays and boarding district. Something like, where they’re from. You and Iris are from the same district?” “…” She nodded. “Niiiice. But where you’re from ain’t it. I learned one important piece of information—“ “…” “—your birthday’s soon! Crazy, right? You probably don’t even remember your birthday. Well, check it out — it’s in 2 days. Not tomorrow, but tomorrow 2.0. the like, plus version of tomorrow, yeah?” “…” She wanted him to shut up. But the sound of a birthday she never knew existed at all was nice. “We should totally do something fun or find some way to celebrate,” Holden said with a smile. Celia gave him a thumbs up. My birthday… huh.

Sinclair was tuned out of his surroundings. While it would be rude there was only so much information about fixers one could digest until it became exhausting. I think it was Tuesday. Or maybe Monday. Mondays are the worst, I know for sure. But I might have been having a bad day on a Wednesday. Sinclair wasn’t sure what to expect for the day, although he already wished it was over. (edited)

The sound of Holden saying “birthday” made the back of the bus erupt in excitement. Any chance to not do this grueling work, they’d take it. They gasped, tugged at each other, looked around in wonder. Sei was the first to perk up and reach over the back of her seat, hand firmly planted on Heath’s shoulder. “Oooh, a Birthday?! Danteeeeeeeee~! Are we gonna do something? It’d be rude not to!” The princess called out, half-standing on her seat to look at the front of the bus. Hong Lu also lit up. “Oh? Who’s birthday? We could hold a banquet for them, my grandmother would invite all of my cousins when it was my birthday and they’d bring.” “Ah, in my hometown we often took the birthday kid out for dinner,” Iris added. Ishmael furrowed her brow. “Birthday…? I forgot those were a thing.” “It’s gonna be Celia’s — so it’s special,” Holden said while pointing his thumb back at Celia. She was embarrassed by the sudden attention, especially after a bad night, but seeing everyone finally get along was interesting — a relief, she wanted to call it. (edited)

Sinclair was pulled back to the present when the commotion began. Celia's birthday? Oh... It had been so long since Sinclair considered something like that, he was unsure where to start. Shouldn't I... give something to her? But what should I? It should be something special... What can I do for her... that no one else can?

Truthfully, Celia didn't want a big deal of the matter. She didn't have many birthdays, barely able to remember her last one -- but knowing it was enough to bring all her normally feuding coworkers together, felt like enough to her. "There's probably not much we can do," Frankenstein tried to keep the group together with her words. "Naaah. We'll find a way. Celia, what do you like?" Holden asked. Celia remained quiet. Piano, sweets, reading, candles... and Sinclair, she wanted to answer. "It's fairly simple -- but we'd have to do more," Hong Lu said while putting his hand on his chin. "Do you have a favorite restaurant? We could go there!" Rodya said from the front, turning around in her seat. Celia jumped. "...?" Do I? I never thought about it. "Let's not overwhelm her," Ishmael said. "Why don't we bake a cake, sing a song, and let her have an easy day?" Celia seemed fine with that. She looked towards Sinclair. I think i'd like to spend that day with him. It was hard for her to admit how much she was longing for his comfort, since she woke up. (edited)

Maybe I could... play a song? I'd have to go to her room... but she wanted me to come tonight... Damn it, but her birthday isn't tonight. Or tomorrow. Sinclair decided to try and think it over later in private, away from all the noise. For now... make it through today.

Eventually, Vergilius got tired of the (rather positive) riot, raising his voice so the bus got quiet. “Make a cake, sing a song, then you have celebrated. Don’t forget you’re still with Limbus Company,” he said with a near-hiss. The lively back of the bus rolled their eyes. “Okay, but can we get a few extra hours to prepare something?” “…Faust doesn’t see an issue with that, if all plans go well.” “The LCC Before team has been having issues with the next few boughs, so—” Iris raised her voice as well. “I’ll say it for you — it doesn’t hurt, we’re making a cake.” “And I’M picking the kind of cake!” Sei ordered, pushing her hand into Heathcliff’s face to make sure her head was in the aisle glaring at the others in the back. He would have fought back, but considering their last spat — it wasn’t worth it. Hmm… Are we gonna stop that day? I hope so. I think we’ve been heading towards my home district… (edited)

It sounds like the general festivities are sorted out... I guess I just have to worry about what I can do. Running through ideas, Sinclair wasn't sure on what to settle on. Cooking again? Playing a song? Maybe something else? I know we've barely started... being together. But I owe it to her to make her feel loved...

After watching the scenery go by for a while, Celia turned back towards her seatmates. Looks like today's a travel day, and the look Dante gave to the rest of the sinners signaled it. Okay, things can begin. People began moving seats, walking around as if it were a casual train -- er, bus ride. Holden slapped the back of his seat and rose quickly. "Heath, you and I have a match of checkers to finish." "Finish what? You've gotta be kidding me, last game you just took all my pieces when I was looking." "Nuh-uh, we didn't finish because your dumb ass started arguing with Strawberry Shortcake again." Celia watched him leave to the back of the bus. Others begin to move to their own spots and groupings. She soon got up and waded her way to Rodya -- along the way, as she passed the three in Sinclair's row, she gave them each a gentle pat on the head. Donqui was ruffled with energy -- Yi Sang simply gave a wave and a nod. In the front of the bus, she sort of collapsed in the older sinner's arms. "Oh! Celi!" Rodya said with surprise, welcoming the girl into an embrace. "You okay? Did the loudness back there scare you or something?" "...No. Just wanted to say hi."

Even if it was childish, Sinclair felt a little better from the pat on the head. Maybe I’m worrying too much… but I still feel like I’ve got to come up with something. Hopefully it hits me soon… He eases up a little, and tries to carry the excited energy the rest of the Sinners have. (edited)

Rodya held Celia close to her bosom, holding her head. It’d be a more tender moment if not for the setting they were in. Thanks. I needed that. Staring out the window, they didn’t need to talk for a bit. Rodya knew Celia wasn’t fond of conversations unless it was with someone very important — only one person fit this bill, but Rodya was unaware of that. When Celia felt she had enough, she quietly got up…. And seemed to disappear without a trace.

Sinclair found himself swept up in the excited chatter. Although he didn’t contribute much to the conversation, he was hopping to soak ideas from the others. …I suddenly feel like… a lot of these people don’t know what Celia would like. Hong Lu and Sei’s pitches were far too grandiose, Faust’s was far too rigid, and he didn’t know where to begin with Ryoshu’s. I think it’d be best whatever I’m planning is separate from the main event…

While Celia was away, the rest of the bus didn’t seem to notice she had left besides Rodya knowing she wasn’t in her arms. They kept bouncing ideas — even the two oafs playing checkers were trying to get their ideas in with the rest of the cacophony of voices. “Where are we headed next? Maybe that will help.” <…Aren’t we nearing District 23?> “The place with cannibals? No way, we can’t work with that!” “Oh! I doth have a suggestion! We take Lady Celia to a fair!” “Ah, Quixote, I don’t believe many of those exist without some kinds of loonies. No offense.” Iris made her way up the bus, Chevalier in hand. She stopped by Sinclair, leaning into his ear — he could hear the gentle ambient sounds of her halo as it glowed, like a distant crystalline cave. “Did you have any ideas?” She asked.

Iris interrupted Sinclair's thoughts, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard her. "Don't sneak up on me like that... I-I think I have a few... but uh... I'm not certain if it'll carry enough weight. If that makes sense..." "I feel like I've already done most things... I took her on an outing... I kissed her, or well it's more like she kissed me... I cooked for her... slept with her... so I've been thinking about playing piano for her." "Romance is still so new to me... surely you have more experience, right?" Make it something she remembers. That's what counts.

“Ah, really? Hm… how fast you move,” she whispered. Then, he brought up the fact she had more experience. “…O—Oh, you mean with Lady Faust? Ah, it’s quite a different relationship.” Iris chuckled, cheeks going a little pink. When he described their progress, her heart felt warm. Young love is cute… but, sleeping together? Wow, I didn’t know they were that comfortable. “…You’re awfully cute, though. Come, I wanna get away from the commotion. Can we talk in the kitchen? I can tell you more.” Iris stood tall, dragging her large weapon behind her. It was like a sign to stay away, don’t move. Despite Iris’ sleepy demeanor and soft looks, she almost commanded fear with how quickly she can slay things with such an impressive blade. It’s no wonder Celia looks up to her so much.

Sinclair followed suit, holding Vogel closely as they went to the kitchen. It was not an exaggeration to say Sinclair trusted Iris. She was strong, dependable, and capable. Sinclair often wished he was like her, as even going through a similar experience such as his, she was able to overcome it. She's rather close with Celia... I'm sure there's some answers I can get from her. ...I can't seem to find anything notable in my birthday parties... I wasn't very popular... so there weren't any people except for family... (edited)

Passing the rows of doors and soon opening the double doors, Iris placed her weapon on the wall and immediately walked to grab a notepad and paper — stationery was handed out often to take notes or jot down recipes, or leave notices on the corkboard. “Thanks for humoring my request,” Iris said with a shallow grin. “So, you said you wanted to play piano for her…? What, are you starting to learn?” She asked, holding the pen delicately in between her fingers.

"Oh, sort of... I used to play. My parents..." Sinclair furrows his brow, trying to figure out how to word his statement. "They wanted their children to be talented. I did play the piano, but so did my sister. And she seemed to be the star they were hoping for... so I quit." ...I wish I could have made them proud. "But now I have a reason to play again..."

Iris nodded. She tapped the pen to her lip, then gave a little smile. “…Celia’s the same way, actually. Her older brother — although, I believe she’s forgotten about him — was a fairly respected pianist in our hometown. Even the school I grew up in, we’d go to his recitals. If you thought she’s good, he was even better.” Iris leaned on the counter, tilting her head towards Sinclair. Her halo glew brighter, spinning at a moderately fast pace. “But she, instead of quitting, was inspired by him — aiming to be as great as him someday. She’s fairly close, if what I hear from her room tells anything. …Truthfully, I didn’t even know that she was his younger sister until the first day I met her working here. It must have run in the family.” Passing off the small background knowledge of Celia she knew, the knight began writing a few things down. “You need to practice, right? In Dr. Frankenstein’s room, she has a little upright piano— I can probably get on her good side and let you use it, if you need that.” (edited)

"Eh? Seriously? You were from the same hometown? I feel like I should have known this..." "A-and are you certain that it's not too much trouble for you?" Sinclair had never heard anyone play as well as Celia, so the fact that there may have been someone better was bewildering. The world of piano must be vicious... I'm lucky I quit when I did...

“Yes, actually. I was from the other side of town, and we never truly crossed paths, but we come from the same hometown. It’s why …” Iris grimaced. “I’m not overly enthusiastic about going back soon. Because that means one — or both of us might have to face uncomfortable memories.” She wrote down more things, then nodded in response to his question. “Half of the bus dislikes me because of Lady Faust, but among those who don’t are Dr. Frankenstein and Madame Outis. If I get along with one, the other bends to my will. Either way — it brings me to my 2nd part of my idea.” She picked up the notepad, gazing directly at Sinclair — unlike Faust’s icy cold stare that made one regret direct eye contact, Iris’ was filled with determination and confidence. It was like staring into a hero’s eyes. “You ready to hear?”

"A-as ready as I'll ever be..." Sinclair feels a bit nervous, particularly by the way she prefaced the statement. Just suck it up for her Sinclair...

“Wonderful.” She flipped the notepad around, with carefully written notes and sketches. In the center of the page was a drawing of a park with a garden, with a gazebo in the center. “There’s a park in our town that has the most beautiful sights in the City. Of course, this comes with the cost of how bad the backstreets are, but in that gazebo—“ She pointed to the drawing of the gazebo. “There’s a piano there, and from my memory, it has lights that almost react to the music. She’ll love it. You take her there, maybe buy her a gift, play the piano for her… …This relies on you not choking up in the process, though. Which… i’m not sure if that’s fully possible.” She awkwardly smiled. “No offense, though.”

"I-I... none taken..." It pained Sinclair but she was right. He was more than likely to fail. ... "M-maybe some taken... but besides that, how should I even get her by herself? I imagine everyone will want to be around her since it's her birthday..."

"I can ask Dante if we can let you guys slip away while the others are scrambling to make a cake, if that works. My word goes a long way." She put the notepad down, sliding it towards Sinclair. "By the time you're back, we'll likely be ready, and she'll be all happy and buttered up. Sound good?" Iris mostly manning the plan meant it was almost fool-proof, but she had to do a lot of convincing on the sidelines. Knowing Sei was also somewhat in on it -- they had a conversation while the initial mess was settling down, in which Iris' lack of denial made Sei realize her hunch was right -- she could probably get on the good side of Dante and let things run as smooth as possible. ... and then get right into leading the cake-making.

Sinclair was more than relieved that someone else was doing the heavy lifting, so that he could focus on himself. Everyone’s doing their best for Celia… and above all else, I shouldn’t let her down. I… hope I’m half as talented as my sister was… Sinclair took a quick glance at the notepad being slid to him.

Iris interlocked her fingers, her half-awake eyes in a focused gaze. All that will take is... "Oh, one more thing. Since we're just traveling today, I can already arrange some things so you're already preparing. But otherwise..." She furrowed her brow. As Iris thought, her halo spun slower and nearly flickered with light. "If you have time, do tell me some more details about you two. I'm curious." The proposal was made with a near-smug grin. However, Iris truly just had some innocent curiosity.

Sinclair felt his face heat up. “I-I suppose I owe it to you… um. Is there anything in particular you want to know..? Erm… I guess… Celia kind of takes the reigns on most things…” What counts as… interesting in this context?

"Oh, anything. Just -- let your heart out, if that helps. How you feel, what you've done, anything." Iris was interested mostly because of her curiosity on how such a raw, uncontrolled love works. However, she also simply wished to kill time, unwilling to return to the cacophany of noise that was the front of the bus. "I'll listen. There's no requirements for this assignment."

“Oh… well I’ll try my best. I guess I should say how we got together? I was having a hard time sleeping, and I suppose she was too. I went to get some water and she was making herself some food, but she left behind her mask.” Probably shouldn’t mention the knife… “I tried to talk to her without embarrassing her, and she invited me to her room… and it sort of picked up from there, come to think of it.” Sinclair didn’t want to ramble too long on the story, and changed direction. “It’s nice being with her… she’s gentle, cute…. it feels like she’s the remedy to anything weighing me down.” Sinclair’s cheeks grew rosy as he described her.

Iris kept a small smile on her face, twirling the pen between her fingers. “Mhm… ah… oooh…” Her reactions were slightly over exaggerated, but she gave a little nod. “That checks out. When you two are in the same room, it’s like you both shift into your happier selves.” Her tone changed to be more serious. “…at least, when conditions allow it.” She recalled the incident with Celia’s Rootclimber ID — one that made even Iris uncomfortable. “… I’m sure when your mirror worlds match up, maybe in those cases you both get along just as well as you do now. I know it’s like that with Lady Faust and I…”

"I hope so, but I'd only be able to find out if we happen to wear an ID from the same world..." The Zwei Association would be nice... that's a rather peaceful world compared to some others… I wonder if that one as well… “I suppose it’s easier to be happy when you’re with someone you love…”

"And that's a rare occurrence, mhm." Iris put the pen away, adjusting her tie and holding her hands together. "Speaking of being with someone you love... I don't think I'm aware of where Celia is right now. Last I saw, she was with Rodya, but you know how she disappears sometimes." "Maybe it'd do you a service to find her."

“O-oh.. I suppose I’ll go looking for her then.” Sinclair excused himself, and started searching. Maybe I ought to ask Rodya first… sounds like she was with her. The first place Sinclair goes to check for Rodya is in her room, gently rapping on the door.

Celia was sitting by the piano, reading a book. When someone knocked, she quickly got up and walked up to the door. Who is it? When she opened the door, her face lit up at the sight of Sinclair. She pulled him into the room, hugging him tightly as the door closed. "You're here... hi..."

"O-oh!" Sinclair was taken by surprise by the immediate hug. "G-good to see you too... I just wanted to drop by... and talk. How are you feeling with all the fuss about your birthday?" I can't remember the last time everyone on the bus seemed so excited... over something positive at least.

"It was overwhelming, but i'm really glad everyone's finally getting along." She held him close, then nuzzled into his neck. "Ah... uhm... It's okay, I'm moreso just recovering from a bad night. I didn't sleep much," Celia admitted. For a moment, I considered going back to sleep for as long as possible. But I can't leave Sinclair alone, when I...

"O-oh... I suppose that makes two of us?" Sinclair felt his body heat up in response to her touch. So cute... "I imagine all the pressure is tough...err.. how old will you be?"

When he asked, she paused. She barely remembered -- all Celia knew was she was soon to celebrate her 12th birthday, and then she woke up once and many birthdays had passed. What did they put... on my card? Why don't I remember? "Uh...mmm.... I think, if I remember right -- 20 was on my ID card. So, now, i'm turning 21." Yep, that sounds right.

Sinclair looked shocked. "Huh? You're going to be older than me..." I feel a little disappointed and I'm not sure why... "I wonder what everyone has planned for the day..."

Celia laughed. "I don't think I'd be able to work here if I was younger." "I missed quite a lot of birthdays, so I'm hoping this year is very special. I might just be preparing myself mentally today, I... don't think I'm fully here today." The admittance was met with a soft sigh, and her gaze traveling into the distance. "I feel a little better now that you're here."

"I'm glad..." Hoping this year is special... "Take your time then... I'll linger around as much as you need." Sinclair took her hand in his, a smile growing on his face as he does so.

"Mm, thanks." She took his hand, holding it carefully. "I'm sure the others aren't even fully aware i'm gone, I hope they're entertaining themselves... even Sei looked happier, surprisingly." Celia lead Sinclair into the library, pushing open the door. A waft of cool air washed over them, carrying the scent of endless old books. "I don't think... I've shown you the library before. Here it is -- just a lot of books." In the back of the room was a large mural of the tree, fit with a small sun in the center. It obviously wasn't painted by Celia herself.

"This is awfully cozy." Sinclair spent some time admiring the mural. It was rather beautiful, as was most things in this room. "I feel like I get more and more impressed each time I'm in your room."

Celia couldn't help but smile at the compliment. "Really? I find it hazy, a little childish... but if you see that beauty, I think I'll grow to appreciate it more. Some days, though, it's not as scenic." She let go of his hand, moving a cushion next to the large chair in front of the desk in the center. She moved books around, barely cleaning up and trying to make it somewhat easy to navigate. Celia sat down in the large chair, pulling her knees up to her chest. "It's enjoyable to get lost in a book here, before I go to bed."

Sinclair continues to look around, thumbing through a few of the books. It feels as if he could find one on just about any topic. "You probably have no shortage of books to get lost in." Eventually, he rests beside her. "It's nice having these moments... just us."

“Mm-mm. I’ve been collecting them for as long as I remember… seeing the collection again is nostaglic.” She leaned on the side of the chair, getting closer to Sinclair. Celia took his hand, putting it to her cheek. “…I missed you.” When she realized she said that out loud, she began to backpedal. “A—ah, I know it’s only been a night, but — I … I just enjoy being next to you, and that one night was enough to make me long for another hug.”

"N-no... it's alright. I missed you too..." Sinclair felt oddly happy that she missed him so much. "I... like being with you too... and you can always come to me... even if it's just for a quick hug." She always feels so soft to the touch... like a pillow or plush.

“Really? W—well, I don’t want too many people finding out, if I…” She bit her tongue. Celia wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell him of Sei’s suspicions, but again - part of her felt she’d be doing wrong if she hid again. “Mmm… Well, some are already figuring it out. Sei entered my room before dawn, she tried prying information out of me, but I didn’t really say anything.” It was a half-truth. She actually gave just enough information for Sei to discern that Celia was lying. “But, when it’s just you and I, I’ll always come to you when I need it.”

“Oh, people are finding out…” Sinclair wasn’t quite sure if that was good or bad. It’s no secret that a few Sinners had feelings for each other, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted this to be known. But it was a happy time, and Sinclair would rather keep spirits high. “Well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it.” Sinclair pet the top of Celia’s head. “So lets quit worrying and enjoy this.”

Celia nodded. She leaned in a little more, Part of her didn't mind. She's seen the incessant PDA between some pairs or groups of sinners, and part of her felt a little envious she couldn't join in. But the subtlety, the delicate nature of this bond was also to be appreciated. "Yeah, that's fine. I'd rather focus on being with you anyways..." She looked at him with very gentle, loving eyes. It was like peering into a new side of Celia, one that yearned for connection. "How are you right now? I don't think I asked." Her hands extended out to hold his face, thumbs brushing against Sinclair's cheeks in a gentle motion.

“I’m fine… maybe just a bit grumpy earlier cause I didn’t sleep, but now it’s all better because im with you.” Sinclair leaned into her touch. It felt nice to be comforted like this.

"Ahh... you didn't sleep?" That worried her. She soon made her way off of the chair and onto the cushion he was sitting on, getting even closer and offering another hug. "Sinclair, I can't let that happen again."

Like a moth to a flame, he found himself moving into her hug. “It’s nothing to worry about… we all have hard time sleeping sometimes…” She feels nice to hold. Like she was built for my arms. So cute…

"Mm. I guess, but I still worry." He's so warm... "I'll make sure you sleep well from now on, though. Even if it means every night, you're holding onto me in my own bed." This little bit of care was all she could offer, but Celia hoped it was just enough. She surely would've loved it at times.

Sinclair blushed furiously. “W-well I a-appreciate the thought… but I’ll…” Sinclair’s words eventually devolve into mumbles as he tries to overcome his bashfulness. “E-er… I’ll come… sleep with you again sometime…” He manages to force the words out, albeit his voice was small.

"Mhm." She moved back to holding his face, her smile only growing by the minute. "I'll make sure you're well rested, and then we can have breakfast together with the others, and then..." "...We can pretend it never happened," Celia murmured with a small laugh.

An embarrassed smile grows on his face as well. “I… appreciate the kindness. It means a lot to me. And I’m sorry to make you worry,” Sinclair felt a small sense of guilt for causing her to fuss about him.

"It's okay, I just care about you." Celia leaned in carefully as if to give a kiss, but she stopped just before so Sinclair had a chance to pull away. I--I couldn't help it...

She really missed me… Sinclair finished leaning in to kiss her. She’s the birthday girl… or birthday girl to be. It’d be cruel to deny her…

"...Mm..." Celia couldn't help but smile a little in the kiss. Even if he didn't really give them much care, Sinclair's lips felt nice against her own, matching nearly one to one. When she separated, she wiped her lip very subtly. Celia was smiling even wider. "Thank you... I, uhm..." How do I say this. "I love kissing you." That's too forward...

Sinclair flushed red. The statement flustered him beyond belief. “…T-that’s… a very bold statement. But… I think I agree…” For Sinclair, it felt like every time her lips made contact with him, it felt smoother and softer than the last. There was a bit more love than the kiss that preceded it and it filled his heart.

Instantly, Celia’s face flushed red. It was one of the few times she was a red, flustered mess. “Mm…? Oh— Aaahhh, i’m sorry…! I didn’t mean to come off too forward…!” I-I just meant that I… aahh..!” She covered her face from the embarrassment, whining into her hands. God, he probably thinks you’re some kind of creep now…

Sinclair couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I-It’s ok! Please relax… I-I don’t mind…” It’s a little funny… and a little cute. Is that what I look like when I turn all red? “I’m glad… you like me that much…”

“Mmmm…….!” She inhaled deeply, nodding. The embarrassment wouldn’t subside, though. “I—I do… I like you a lot…”

Sinclair still felt the burning red on his face, and gave her a swift hug. “I do too… but I think that’s obvious…” “Out of curiosity… do you have a favorite sweet? Sei will probably end up deciding what’s going to be at your birthday but I was just wondering.”

She immediately hugged him back, the blush on her face dissipating. “A—ah. Oh, I think so. Have you ever had madeleines? They’re these…. Mm…. Small cakes, i like to sprinkle powdered sugar on mine. They’re delicious… I had them a lot as a child.” Celia seemed to be full of joy when she spoke about her favorite foods. Then, her expression turned to a blank smile. “And, she is?” that fits. I’ve never seen her eat anything that wasn’t full of sugar. “I hope her choices are good. But, knowing where she came from, it has to be.”

“I just hope we can support her… likely expensive tastes.” Madelines… if there’s anyone to ask about sweets… it has to be Sei. “Mm… I’m sure it’ll turn up fine as long as she’s accompanied by some of our more… logistical coworkers.” I think it would be far easier if Meursault handled the whole process… but he doesn’t seem like the type to think much of birthdays.

“I think from what it sounded like, everyone is going to be all hands on deck. She’ll just be barking at the others…” Sei wasn’t the type to do much work herself, often ordering the others around. The effort she went through to make her uniform look the most unique often meant that she was mistaken as the actual manager, while Dante was demoted to scarlet-clad secretary. Celia was aware of Sei’s bossy nature because of that too, often using her weapon as a disciplinary tool. That’s gonna be fun to watch… Ceia laughed at the thought, almost wanting to be part of the process — even if it was for her birthday.

“Mm… maybe I’ll hide out here with you while it happens.” Sinclair was half joking when he said that. Being stuffed in the kitchen with all the other sinners did not sound like an enjoyable experience. I might be able to get her out of the bus for a bit while they get things ready… Iris did tell me about that piano… I’m still short on Ahn after that last outing… I‘ll have to ask around for some.

“I’d like that, actually. They can just look for me when they’re ready,” She said with a smile. Celia wasn’t entirely aware that she was going to be taken out, but she felt that everyone else would be busy, much like now. Thus, a good hideaway. She found it easy to slip out of view, it was likely few others knew even now the two of them were gone. “And then we can celebrate, and I can consider it a good birthday… I wonder if anyone’s gonna bring gifts.”

"I'm sure someone will... you might get more than you bargained for from some though..." Rodya, Ishmael, and Iris probably have a good idea of what to get as gifts... I wouldn't trust Ryoshu... and Hong Lu will probably get something egregiously priced... assuming he hasn't spent all his money. "Hmm... it's not even for me, but I'm oddly excited to see what everyone has planned for the day."

“I don’t think I mind. Gifts are always nice, it’s good to know someone thought of you.” She furrowed her brow. “…Perhaps in the process, I’ll get something I didn’t know I needed. Like….” Scanning the room, Celia looked At various items. The orb-like lamps, the empty top-shelves, the books on the floor… “Ah. A stepping stool. Although, maybe I should just buy one for myself.”

"A stepping stool isn't the most glamorous gift... maybe we could just grab one the next time we stop somewhere..." The idea of Celia unwrapping a carefully wrapped giftbox, only to reveal a plain stool was still rather funny to Sinclair. "Mm... Maybe if I picked you up, I could help you grab something from the top?"

“Ah? C—“ She flushed red, staring at Sinclair with wide eyes. “C—Can you even pick me up?” She’d like to see him try. Just to prove herself wrong, but being in his arms wouldn’t hurt. After all, she was able to carry him to bed. That’s so embarrassing, even if I said yes…

"I could try..." Sinclair was a bit red as he placed his hands on her sides, just beneath her arms. Didn't realize... how embarrassing this would be... She was rather easy to pick up due to her small frame, even compared to Sinclair's rather short stature. "I-I suppose I can..." Like picking up a cat...

The second she was being lifted up, Celia’s face went red and she nearly fainted from embarrassment. “Aaahh, I guess you can…!? That’s—uhm—that’s nice to know…?” Why do I want him to pick me up more now?! You’re hopeless….

Sinclair realized how quickly she was reddening, turning a similar color. He swiftly put her back down. "S-sorry! Sorry... I should have... said something before I did that..." That... was oddly enjoyable for me...

“Ah, well… I know who to call if I ever want to put those books back up on the shelves.” She looked down at the book scattered on the floor. Some were open to medical notes, some were just blank pages, a few were face down and showing their covers. “…Not now, though.” (edited)

"Y-yeah... of course." Even if he didn't want to admit it, the idea of spending an afternoon working to clean with Celia sounded very appealing to him. "I'm always available when you need me." (edited)

“Ahh, that’s good. Because I need you all the time,” Celia teased. While it wasn’t much of a lie, she was exaggerating. Something was entertaining about their relationship, she wanted every moment to be spent with Sinclair. But right as Celia’s thoughts were about to go further, she heard a knock on the door. “Ah, I got it.” Picking up her mask and running to the door, Celia prepared herself to answer. Iris! “Hello, lovebirds. Dinner’s ready. I can either bring you two plates, or you can join the… display in the kitchen.” “Hmm…” “Is Sinclair at the top? Or the library?” “Library.” “Well, make your choice fast.” Celia looked back, nodded, then walked back to the Library’s door. “Iris said dinner’s ready. She can bring us food, or we can go out. Your choice…!”

"M-My choice? Well..." Dinner time... if we're missing people are bound to start getting suspicious... "I-I guess we can join the others..."

“Okay. Come on,” Celia said. She ran up to Iris, offering a childish salute. “So you’re coming?” “Yes.” “Wonderful. If someone asks, you were napping and Sinclair needed alone time.” “Mhm.” Iris…knows… and she’s protecting us. How heroic. Celia adjusted her mask and prepared herself. Her room wasn’t too far from the kitchen, and the noise was already prevalent. Sinners were serving themselves, moving into the dining area past the viewing window. Those not ready to eat were mingling around the edges. Sei and Rodya somehow got their hands on cheap wine, holding glasses and talking about what was likely nonsense. Meursault was serving everyone, solemnly portioning as he saw fit. Even if Rodya or Sei complained about their portion, he did not budge from his judgement. Heathcliff was leaning on the back wall, grumbling to himself about something. His gaze seemed locked on Ishmael, who was trying to adjust the corkboard of their notes. Other sinners were all doing their own things, like playing with food or trying to drink the most water in a set amount of time. Celia walked forward to Meursault, hands extended. He nodded, handing her a plate. “What is it today?” “Fettuccine Carbonara. Made by myself, Madame Frankenstein, and Mme. Natsume.” Natsume, that cat…! She can cook? Ah… maybe so, didn’t someone say she used to work an office job? No one cooks for you in that case…. Celia nodded, moving to the side while waiting for Sinclair.

Sinclair wasn't too far behind, just a matter of finding his gloves and grabbing Vogel. It'd be a bit odd to bring a weapon to dinner, but he didn't want to leave it in Celia's room, and it's likely that a certain artist would also be bringing theirs, so it's not like he'd be alone in the matter. Last time I went to the kitchen with a weapon... Sinclair was rather surprised at what was offered at the table. A meal this well crafted was not something commonly offered on the bus, but he was more than eager to sample his portion when the time came. "I wonder if it's for your birthday? Like a special pre-celebratory meal?"

“Maybe? Feels too soon… I think it’s just because of who made it.” Celia tried keeping herself away from the crowd, but the moment she turned her head towards the corner, two mewling voices called for her. “Oh Ceeeeeeliiiii~” Called out Rodya. “Celiaaaaaa!” Sei followed. “Ah…” As she walked over to the two women, Rodya put a hand on Celia’s head. “Now, now, are you excited for your birthday? You must not remember most of your other ones, ah~?” “Mm-mm.” Sei gave a pout — it was exaggerated, likely from her intoxication. “Awww… okay, we have to make this one really good.” As the two tipsy women took turns babying Celia and interrogating her on her birthdays and plans, she turned to look at Sinclair. “…” Ah, help me… (edited)

Sinclair was taken by surprise when they suddenly latched onto Celia. D-don't look at me like that... ah... "U-um...hold on guys! Let her have dinner... and not all at once with the questions..." Ugh... I can smell the drink on them...

“Aawhhh, but we’re both just so excited~” Sei cooed, ruffling Celia’s hair. She didn’t oppose, but was slightly annoyed from the sudden attention. Carefully eating her food by putting the fork behind her mask, Celia just let them talk more. “Besides, it’s hard to resist an adorable birthday girl,” Rodya whined. “Yes, so so so cute! We have a lot of gifts planned~” “…” Celia shook her head as she was pat more and more. “I need to sit… we can talk later…!” She said, ducking down to make her escape. Gah… they’re so troublesome when they drink.

Wait! Don’t leave me alone with them! Sinclair awkwardly tried to slip beneath them and joined Celia, making an effort to not send his dinner onto the floor.

As she made her escape, she stopped and laughed a little. “I guess they’re celebrating early,” she commented with a sigh. As Celia tried to move her way through the crowds, she ended up making a few passing glances — one to Iris, who was eating next to Faust. Then to Outis, who stationed herself on a wall next to Frankenstein serving food. Lastly, a glance at Hong Lu, who was chatting with Gregor while pretending he wasn’t concerned about Sei’s tipsy giggling fit across the room. Celia found herself a small, secluded corner to settle into and eat at, sitting down and crossing her legs. “Mm… It feels crowded here sometimes.”

After eventually breaking away from the drunkards, Sinclair reunited with Celia, looking rather beat from having to humor the intoxicated sinners. "Ah... and I thought Rodya was chatty when she was sober... how are you holding up on your end?"

Turning her head to Sinclair, Celia’s expression was unreadable. After a moment, though, she offered a shrug. “Uh…. Not sure. I think the others are having fun, but I…” It was hard to admit she wasn’t too excited about her birthday. “…I’m feeling normal, oddly.”

"Huh... I think I'm oddly... excited? I'm not sure if that's the right word... but I'm happy that there's something peaceful to look forward to." I can't seem to look back on my own birthdays fondly though...

By the time Sinclair next looked at her, Celia’s plate was empty, and she sat still cross-legged. She pondered his response. The memory of birthdays past was slim, if she had any. Celia pushed her fingers to her mask. “Hmm. Maybe I should be more cheerful, if that’s how you’re feeling. It will be my special day, after all.”

"That's the spirit... I think." Sinclair did his best to smile, and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. I want her to be happy... that's all I really want.

Celia stared on blankly. She gave a small thumbs up, then leaned in to give a quick embrace. That was the right amount of encouragement. “Thanks.” She got up and walked to discard her plate, placing it in the sink and offering a polite bow to Meursault as a ‘thank you’ to him. “Sinclair. I think I remembered something else,” Celia whispered while squatting down.

Sinclair tilted his head curiously. "Oh? What is it?" Sinclair crouched next to her and leaned it to hear her whispers.

It was quiet, but the memory was laced with an audible smile in her voice. “When I was younger… I used to go birdwatching on my birthday. I—it was right when all of the trees were at their brightest…” She put her hands against her mask. “I’m sure there’s not many birds anymore, but I want to do something like that again. Since… my birthday’s soon.” Celia was unaware of his plans, but it was a good time to line them up with a nostalgic memory.

“Birdwatching…” This is good… I think. It’s an excuse to get her off the bus. “Maybe we can get lucky? If we’re thinking positively, even if our chances are slim they aren’t zero…”

Celia lit up visibly from the possibility. “Really? Do you think we’ll be allowed to go off the bus for that?” Even if her memory wasn’t crystal clear, the childlike joy of such a nostalgic activity seemed to brighten Celia from her prior indifference.

"Er... I don't see why not? If we're not doing anything anyway, we might as well breath some fresh air..." It seemed like a reasonable deduction that as long as they asked permission, there wouldn't be any reason that Vergilius or Dante would be against them taking a stroll for a little while.

“Mm. Good, good.” She leaned her head in a little more as if to mimic a small kiss — not like anyone was looking in their direction, either way. With a small nod, she soon stood up and resumed her usual emotionless, closed-off demeanor as if making an entire switch from the excited young lady witnesses moments ago. “Mm, Rodya?” Within seconds, the older woman immediately cut off her conversation. “Celiiii~?” “Sinclair and I are heading to bed now, we’re both tired. Have a good night.” She walked over and gave her a brief side-hug, which seemed to make not only Rodya burst into an excited fit of laughter and squealing, but also Sei and Hong Lu, who joined in the conversation over dinner. “Awwww, have a good night.” Sei said, putting a hand on her cheek. “Rest well, my sapling~” Rodya cooed. “Ah? Be sure to take care,” Hong Lu chimed in right after. Celia turned back with a blank expression, as if to signal that it’s time to bail before anyone else got drunker or wanted to catch her attention.

It appeared to him that she had made the decision for them. Sinclair politely bowed out, giving his goodbyes to the sinners, both those intoxicated and sober. "Have a good night..." He wasn't sure if they would even notice their absence, but it never hurt to be courteous either. He nodded swiftly when she turned to him, silently stating that he understood her message.

Celia then slipped into the shadows, out of sight of anyone else. She put her back to the walls of the bus’ corridor, lifting her mask a couple of inches off of her face to get a quick breath of fresh air. “…” Turning to Sinclair, Celia tilted her head as if she were smiling at him. Beneath the mask… was a genuine grin. They made it out alive. “…There, now we’ve eaten. I think… that settles our needs for now?” Celia got nervous, wanting to ask if Sinclair wanted to stay longer, but failing to find the right words to use. In turn, she just remained quiet, silently stewing in her shyness beneath her mask.

"I-I think so? I'm not sure if there's anything left to do..." Sinclair couldn't help the sheepish smile growing in his face. "That was definitely something I wasn't expecting to deal with... but we managed."

“Mm… do you want to go to bed, then?” The proposal was made quietly, as if Celia was trying to hide that she asked. Even if she did ask for his comfort at times, there was still a sense of embarrassment in admitting she desired closeness. Celia cleared her throat.

Sinclair took a breath to steel himself before nodding. "Uh... yeah. I suppose I do..." Sinclair found himself bashful once again, but there was an undeniable desire to be with her,

“Mm.” One nod, and a subtle tapping of Celia’s fingers down Sinclair’s wrists to hold his hand. She guided him into her room once more, unphased by the familiar scenery and the gentle splashing of her shoes against the shallow water. She squeezed Sinclair’s hand, keeping their fingers interlocked. Standing on that same platform, Celia looked down at her feet. “…ready?” She was starting to feel more and more tired as she got closer to her room.

Sinclair's perception was dulled as he held her hand. He was so focused on the warmth of it he hadn't realized they arrived in her room. "A-ah... Yes. I'm ready." The atmosphere of her room was serene enough to melt away all the worries of the world outside of it.

Right as she began pulling off her mask, the platform twisted itself off the floor, discarding the water on it, and lifted into the air. The process was the same every time. It was slightly nauseating, somewhat awe-inspiring, and all the more convenient. Celia’s steps got slower, shallower once the platform stopped. She walked towards her door, pushing the wooden door open, looking out at the rainy, hazy view ahead. Celia turned and put Sinclair’s hand to her cheek for a moment. She then let go, making her way to her bed and lazily crawling onto it. She sighed. Big day soon… I think I’m ready for it.

Sinclair felt his face warm as she gently touched it. He slowly climbed onto the bed next to her, feeling the worries of the day break down. "Sleep well Celia..." He leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of the head, before laying back down.

Celia shuffled in and got closer to Sinclair. She needed something to hold, and well… he was the perfect candidate. Her head slipped beneath his arm, laying right on his chest. Her arm reached across his torso, giving a gentle embrace. Her eyes stayed open for a moment. “…” “Goodnight, Sinclair.”

Being in her embrace was comforting. It was an odd descriptor, but Sinclair felt like he was a giant teddy bear for her. He didn't mind it though, as she rested her sleepy head on his body Sinclair came to an understanding. Always hoping... praying to wake up somewhere familiar. No, this is somewhere to be. This is all you have, but it's still something. bus seats and weapons, the sky, the world, her - you're still alive" I'll never truly be able to forget it all... I'll still wish for everything I've lost... but it hurts a little less when I find something to fill that absence. Sinclair pulled her a little closer. Held her a little tighter.

She felt relaxed… oddly enough, it was in this embrace that Celia felt most at home. Was this a new home? Well, one could call it, even if ‘home’ and ‘employment’ became a homogenized concept. It wasn’t like Celia had somewhere to go, unless she asked Iris to take her in — but Iris also had nowhere to go back to, either. This new ‘home’ wasn’t as fulfilling as the last. No parents making meals, no trophies of awards, no expensive fluorescent lights illuminating a piano that… her brother played. All it was now was Celia, in Sinclair’s arms, in a fabricated room on a mysteriously working bus. Searching for boughs, her own star, and a way to move forward. Those thoughts and realizations carried her through her dream. And after that dream, it was onto a boring workday, with the same gossip and arguments and lukewarm meals by sundown. Another night of cuddling, pretending the world around her was okay and that the truth was still unknown and invisible to Celia. She embraced her new home and the newfound feelings with it. (edited)

Sinclair slowly found himself pulled out of his slumber. He was still in the bed of Celia's room, and she was still resting on him. He shifted around slowly to sit upright, doing his best to keep her asleep. He'd let her sleep in for a while longer. It was her day anyway, so she deserved it. Sinclair absently played with her soft hair, running his fingers through it. Just a little longer... Sinclair wanted to stay like this for as long as he could, enjoying every last moment he could afford to give.

It seemed like Celia slept more soundly on the nights she rested with Sinclair. No more tossing and turning each night, clinging to Mirai to hope for a little more rest, or waking up to seeing things that she long wanted to forget. Here she was now, fast asleep and clinging to the one she loved. On her birthday, nevertheless. She shifted slightly when Sinclair moved. Celia let out a soft groan, almost trying to pull him closer to her as if not ready for him to leave. “…”

Sinclair was abashed by her. For a sleeping girl her grip was tight, and it did not seem to want to let go. He pet the top of her head and whispered to her. “Celia… it’s a big day today… you don’t want to miss it…”

“Nn…ah…” Slowly being stirred awake from the soft whispering, Celia’s grip loosened and she rubbed her eyes. “I-Is it…?” By now, she’s already forgotten it was her birthday. The monotony of their work life and the sheer fact she hasn’t celebrated in years had the thought leave her mind. “Mmm…. morning, Sinclair….” She murmured, burying her face into his chest. Celia didn’t want to get up. Do I really need to wake up…?

“Good morning…” Sinclair shifted slightly as she burrowed her face into him. Cute… “Oh… well I wanted to be the first one to say… happy birthday.”

“…!” Immediately, her head shot up. Hair was in Celia’s face, and her dark eyes were still very sleepy. “Ah… it’s- it’s my birthday, right. Th…” She hesitated. “Thank you.” Agh… now I actually have to get up.

A shy smile creeped onto Sinclair’s face, and he leaned in to give her a kiss, softly pressing his lips right onto hers. “…And I wanted to be the first one to give you a gift.” Sinclair was visibly red, but held his composure.

She found herself wanting to linger onto the kiss. Her eyes closed right as her heart beat just a little faster, cherishing the kiss. “Mm…” A faint smile was on Celia’s face. It was shallow and genuine, showing her appreciation. “Thank you… that… felt nice.”

“Y-yeah.. uh… no problem.” Sinclair only grew more flustered as time went on. “I think… we should get out of bed. It’d be kind of odd for the birthday girl to be late…”

“Mm, right.” She didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t quite ready to leave bed, but Celia soon let go of Sinclair and half-rolled away. She made extra effort to prop Mirai up on the bedside table, giving the small plush a pat on the head. I wonder why I still keep him around. She took her cloak and wrapped it around herself, tugging on the long sleeves to neaten their appearance. “I’ll send you on your way, then…” She turned back, arms extended towards Sinclair for a hug.

Sinclair raised his arms as well to complete the hug. Resting his head in the crook of her neck like it belonged there naturally. “I’ll see you soon…” When they release one another for the hug, Sinclair gave her one more loving gaze before departing to his room.

Celia nearly folded from his gaze. Such soft, beautiful eyes… she was left thinking to herself. Celia got herself ready for the day. Putting on her mask, adjusting her hair, redoing her braid, putting on her uniform and making sure it was properly neat. You’re ready, now. Making her way out of her room earlier than normal, Celia slipped through any patch of darkness to make her way to her seat. The first person to notice was Faust, who handed her a small black and white box with a green bow. “Happy Birthday, this gift is on behalf of Iris,” she said to Celia. Looking towards the seat where Iris should be, all that was left was Chevalier. “Faust understands you might be curious to where Iris is. She’s currently speaking with Vergilius, but will return soon. Limbus Company may allot you with some free time to celebrate this special occasion in the evening, as we make our next stop.” “…Thanks,” Celia whispered. She looked at the box, but chose not to open it.

In his room Sinclair washed up for the day. He had to make sure he looked well today, so he spent more time than usual ensuring that everything down to the last hair was in place. When he was finally out of the room it seemed most were present, and he sat securely in his seat. He likely wouldn't need Vogel, but he still brought it with him as usual.

The buzz was already beginning. Sei discussing dessert plans with Hong Lu while grooming his hair, Holden, Ishmael and Heathcliff bickering about seating and whether or not they’re overwhelming Celia. Even Don Quixote was excited, holding her lance in her arms and kicking her brightly-colored boots to expend her energy. “Young Sinclair! Today doth mark a special day for Lady Celia! Art thou excited?!” She asked. Yi Sang chimed in, leaning forward just a little. “Such an event arouses energy in even the most stoic of our companions,” he commented while aiming his head towards the front of the bus. Vergilius seemed in higher spirits, and even Outis felt invigorated by the brighter atmosphere. It was as if everyone forgot about where they were, And why they’re together.

"O-oh... yeah. I am." It was a pleasant change of pace to see everyone so bright and happy for once. Even the sterner passengers, somehow exuded a more peaceful aura. "I hope it all goes well..." ...I hope I don't mess up...

"It should go well, as long as certain personalities don't clash," Yi Sang stated whilst turning his gaze towards the back of the bus. It was no secret that of the parts of the bus that sat together, the back was the most energetic and the most volatile in terms of how they treat one another. Even now, they were bickering and laughing loudly at eachother while Celia was quiet in the back, listening intently. After a few minutes, though, all sound stopped as the doors opened. Iris entered the bus, holding a small box that was soon left by Celia's side. A few feet behind her was Vergilius, who seemed... in a good mood. "In 3...2... 1..." "Okay, sinners. As you all know, today is not going to be a typical day. We'll be making our stop in District 23 within the next hour." Faust picked up the rest. "We'll be stopping at a terminal while half of you all will be handling the work today. The rest of you will be on assissting in cleaning the bus and gathering fuel." As Vergilius spoke, Iris looked towards different sinners while holding up 3 fingers -- W-03 was the terminal they'd be stopping at, which recently relocated. "You forgot something," Rodya whined. "...Right," Verg groaned, "Happy birthday, Celia." Followed by that was a cacophany of 'happy birthdays,' ranging from enthusiastic to barely caring. Celia bowed slightly as a thanks. I hope... that I don't have to do too much today.

Sinclair could barely contain a snicker. Hearing happy birthday sounded so odd from Vergilius, even if he didn't entirely mean it. One hour... don't mess up. You know what you have to do. "H-Happy birthday!" Sinclair joined the voices, even if he had said it prior. It's a special day today...

As the calls of happy birthday lowered, a voice rose. “Right, so what are the groups?” Gregor asked. “What a wonderful question,” Vergilius replied. He began rattling names off as groups were designated. More efficient sinners got tasked with handling their work — ones like Outis, Sei, Ryōshū, Meursault or Yi Sang were paired. The rest, like Holden, Heathcliff, Gregor, etc. Had to help with cleaning the bus. A last group was saved, one unnamed by Vergilius. Faust, Iris, Sinclair, Celia, and Ishmael. “Those unnamed have something else to do. We’ll reconvene in an hour.” Iris clenched her fist. It worked. Celia perked up when realizing her name wasn’t called, nervous about what could be happening. She looked towards Sinclair to comfort as everyone discussed their jobs, complaining or attempting to trade.

Sinclair exchanged glances with Celia, before looking around at the other unmentioned. Heathcliff was already running his mouth in annoyance while Sinclair went to converse with Iris. “I take it you arranged this..?”

Her usual sleepy gaze cleared up considerably, her sunset-colored eyes looking directly into Sinclair. Iris winked with a little smirk. "I have my ways." Celia looked at Iris, immediately flaring up. She furiously grabbed the boxes to her side, almost consumed with the anxiety of what she was given. I-Iris is putting in so much effort for my birthday...!?!? What more does she even have planned-- In the first box, the one that Faust gave her, was a new pocket watch. Somehow, some way, they knew of her sacrifice. She took it, held it between her fingers, and clutched it tightly. As Iris looked back, even Ishmael peeked over her seat to look into the other gift Celia was opening. Inside was a small fountain pen and a notebook, etched with her name and ornate tree imagery. "...!" A singular tear drop soon fell on her lap, underneath the cold porcelain mask. (edited)

Sinclair didn't have a concrete, physical gift at the moment. However he would make up for it once they arrived. "..,Um... Iris. Are you certain everything will proceed smoothly today? A-and what are you guys doing if you're not prepping for the party?" Sinclair was oddly nervous about this. She hadn't had a proper birthday in so long... it just had to turn out well.

"Even if things don't go perfectly," Iris murmured, "I know I can bring things back on track. As for us..." Faust stepped into the conversation, giving a neutral gaze towards Sinclair. "When we make it to Terminal W-03, there are manners for us to attend to." Celia turned her head. W-03...? There's 3 terminals, constantly moving? Well, we've been to 02, and 01 was being repaired after... "Faust knows you might be curious about the Terminal. Unlike the last one, this one is modeled differently -- It resembles the image of a windmill and a music box, specifically." Celia seemed interested suddenly, her head darting between eavesdropping on the conversation ahead and the other sinners moving around to continue trying to negotiate their teams. Friends wanted to be together, foes wanted to be apart, well-adjusted sinners didn't want to be stuck with slackers. Ishmael listened in. "So, you're saying we're playing mechanic with some windmill terminal?" Faust's brow furrowed. "Not Quite. Faust considers it to be more... detective work."

"Detective work..? Is there something happening there?" Crap... if we get caught up with something it might put a bump in my plans... "It's not gonna end up problematic... right?"

Iris nodded. “If anything, most of the issue will be delegated to myself and Lady Faust.” That was, to say, I’ll let you sneak away while any issues will be handled by us. Ishmael sighed. “At least this isn’t fighting the same abnormality in a mirror dungeon for the millionth time.” “Mm,” Celia quietly agreed. “A music box, though…” Ishmael continued. “Any reason for that?” “You might learn that as you dig into its roots, Ishmael.” Faust’s answer was dismissive. Celia knew that she meant that there were more secrets than even she knew, and the group would find them out. Hmm… not bad for today. They put me on detective work, hehe. (edited)

Sinclair nodded, relieved by this. “Alright… will taking our weapons be necessary..?” Obviously it would not be the best idea for one to walk about in a public space wielding weapons, but they could typically clear up and concerns by showing their ID cards. I still need to organize a few things…

"Unnecessary. If combat's needed, LCCA will handle it for us." Iris decided to keep her weapon with her regardless -- even with such warnings, Faust needed protection at all times. Celia nodded, standing out of her chair. She bowed to excuse herself into her room and put away her gifts. When she returned, the bus was thrust into a stop, causing the usual case of sinners being flung into one another and the seats. Celia, in the middle of the aisle, immediately dropped to her hands and knees to prevent herself from going too far, landing towards the middle of the bus as things settled, landing right in front of the three seats on the window. "Hey-- ow!" "Ack-- Blimey, could you have waited another second!?" "Urgh... each time it's just as painful..." "Uueehh~ Geez, Charon, give us a warning!" The calls were all in unison, some swears mixed in. Celia just laughed to herself, hand holding her mask to her face.

Sinclair had to dust himself off when he finally got on his feet. Ouch... Is it so much to ask for a bit of a warning... It was not uncommon to get a few bumps and bruises before they even got off the bus, due to the reckless nature of the driver. He narrowly avoided biting off his tongue, and helped any nearby coworkers that were still working their way onto their feet. I think I've got a decent supply of Ahn... My clothes are clean... and I've still got my camera. Everything to make a day unforgettable..

Celia rose to her feet, holding a bar near the window. She adjusted her mask, brushed off her hair, then squished over to the side of the bus next to Yi Sang. He politely bowed towards her, and she bowed back. Different sinners went to their different positions, separated by Dante. All that was left was the group left unnamed, who all looked at each other. Faust stared on at the others with half-awake eyes, then turned to the rest of the group. Iris smiled. "Alright, let's go," she said while exiting her seat and leading a line off the bus. Faust and Ishmael followed -- Celia lingered for a few moments, then followed the rest of the line. As they exited the bus, Celia looked around before her eyes settled on the windmill at the top of the architecture. "Terminal W-03 is..." "In my hometown, mhm," Iris finished. "..." Mine, too, Celia wanted to finish. Somehow, it fit in perfectly to her.

Sinclair was a little late to reconvene with the rest of his group. He had stopped to grab his glasses and camera bag, and hurried back out once he retrieved them. "S-sorry... for the wait." Sinclair panted, having ran back and forth as quickly as he could to avoid losing precious time. "This is... kind of a nice place actually..."

Faust nodded towards Sinclair. "It is..." Celia murmured to herself. She stared up at the windmill, then the caved-in dome of the terminal. Although the building was in partial ruin, it still looked beautiful, like a work of art weathered by time itself. Ishmael seemed confused by the sight. It was unlike anything she'd seen, and her prior dismissal of examining the place was now met with curious looks, and an urge to ask questions. "Feel free to split off into groups and go through the terminal itself. If you are needed to reconvene in one area," Faust explained, "you will be called promptly. Faust recommends you check the engine room, as the windmill has not been functioning in years." Ishmael gravitated towards Iris and Faust -- although no offense was meant to the younger sinners, she was in considerably safer hands with the knight and her liege. "Mm. Understood," Celia confirmed. She looked past the foggy windows, attempting to see if there were any signs of the engine or how this entire terminal worked. Her eyes instead caught sight of an ice cream shop's half-worn sign. aahhh... this one has an ice cream shop!?

"Hm... It looks like that it's just us Celia... n-not that it's a bad thing... is there... something you want to do here first?" Sinclair recalled the gazebo Iris mentioned. Of course, it was the intention to take her there. But he realized he actually had no clue where he was going. So it'd be best to wander around with her for a little while, and hopefully run into it.

“Ah-“ Celia looked towards Sinclair. Yes, Faust gave the instructions to see the engine, but Celia had so many places she could go. “Uhm— can we go upstairs first…?” She wanted to see the roof, and look up at the windmill from below.

“Oh? Upstairs…” That’s a good way up… “Of course, let’s get going then.” Sinclair had gotten better around heights, but he still got a bit squeamish all the same.

As the others left, Celia quietly took Sinclair’s hand and lead him towards a set of wooden stairs leading up to a doorway. The wood creaked and cried as they stepped, the soft labored whirring of machines getting closer. “…there’s…” Not much on the top floor. It was fairly empty, save for a dangling chandelier and the caved in roof. Rubble piled on the floor, with wooden spikes shooting towards the sky. “Ah.” Gears and mechanisms were illuminated by the leaking sunlight, rusted and corroded by what could have only been rain. Celia stepped towards the open part of the roof. Looking down, her eyes sparkled. “Things like this can exist in the city?” She seemed to be looking past the destruction of such beautiful architecture that enabled her viewpoint.

"Huh... this is quite the sight..." Sinclair felt safer with Celia in his hand, and was less nervous about the height. "It's kind of sad... something like this left for disrepair." Sinclair could only imagine the wonder of the scene when it was in its prime.

"I wonder what happened to it," She pondered, looking at the size of the hole in the dome. It was clearly some deliberate damage, by some distortion or abnormality running amok. Where it occurred would always be a mystery, as these terminals often self-rebuilt themselves in new locations at random times. Celia took Sinclair's hand, holding it to her chest. Part of it was to keep herself anchored, but feeling his nerves build up ever so slightly -- it was a motion for him as well. On the ground was the garden Iris described and sketched out; the gazebo, made with a similar wood as the terminal itself, but much newer and tended to. "This one has... a garden! How beautiful..." This day was already starting to be one of the best birthdays she's ever had.

Sinclair's blush swelled. "O-oh... ah... how about we check it out?" S-so soon? I wasn't thinking I'd run into it already... "I-I'm sure the scenery would be very lovely..."

"Mm...." Celia shook her head. "No, it's too soon. There's gotta be more for us to explore. But this view..." By now, she'd say something romantic. She'd heard Hong Lu whisper such saccharine words to Sei, but never really listened to the exact phrasing. Now's a perfect chance to... "...It's something I'd like to share with you for a while," Celia murmured. She flushed red. Wait, that was stupid, wasn't it? Well, it was true to her.

Sinclair was left dumbfounded by her words. "I-I-I..." "I'd like to... enjoy the sights with you a little while longer too..." It was shocking to hear Celia say something like that... not that he minded it though.

Subconsciously, she got a little closer to him, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter. No words could be said -- Celia was a flustered mess beneath her mask, as if it were the first time she was saying anything romantic to Sinclair. Did I do it right? I... I think so? After a few moments, she was able to speak again. "The architect who designed this place put a lot of care into it. Mr. Yi Sang... once was an architect, right?"

"Ah... I believe he was." Sinclair grew ever more flustered the closer she got. "I like to believe this was once a bustling place...although I'm not sure what the nature of it would be. Maybe some sort of place for people to meet with one another? I think the right location can help people get out of their shells..."

Celia's head turned. "Maybe... I heard from Faust that these terminals are repurposed buildings sold to Limbus Company, but this one's the oldest. The first was a mall, that... we visited a few days ago." Not many listened to Faust's ramblings, but Celia was one of the few who took in her information. She rattled it off in a way that made more sense than the expositional lectures of the 2nd sinner, but it seemed more like Celia was making sense of it herself rather than trying to pass on the information. "...Was this... a museum? or some kind of plaza -- I saw on the first floor there were some shops and a door leading to what was once a market... maybe it was a sort of town square?" Too bad it's mostly dust and rubble now, Celia thought.

"Ah... interesting. I didn't know they were sold to us... I kind of want to explore more..." Sinclair felt some childlike curiosity to the mysteries of the terminal. Wondering what was about in the area. "Hah...It really is unfortunate something like this happened... I would have liked to have seen this place in its prime."

Turning back, Celia noticed part of the caved in roof had destroyed something. She briefly let go of Sinclair's hand to examine it, walking around and dodging the spikes of what once were supporting beams. "Is this... was this...." She reached the front, seeing dislodged piano keys spread across the floor in front of a large rock. "A piano! ....was this someone's practice room?"

"Oh? Maybe... I wonder if we could find something interesting here. Maybe old sheet music? Or something like that?" Sinclair crouched next to the keys and poked at them. "...Assuming anything worth noting here wasn't crushed by rubble..."

"Ahh... right, we're supposed to be exploring more. I'll tell Iris about this if we run into her. Let's... go downstairs for now." She stared outside for another moment, then turned back to walk towards the lobby. Gigantic gears covered in cobwebs casted shadows on the ground -- a sign that nothing here has worked for quite a long time. "...Should we... go to the engine room next?" That's where we were directed, right?

Sinclair took her hand again. "...Yeah. Lets check it out." Sinclair would be lying if he said that he wasn't entirely offput by the scenery. But having Celia in his hand allowed him to feel a little braver.

Celia found herself curious, and given they were tasked with helping restore the Terminal. Part of her didn't realize the subtle unfairness of such a deal, but being given an adventure on her birthday was worth it. "Okay~" She said, interlocking their fingers sweetly. She looked for any signs pointing to the engine room, following small corridors and hastily-nailed arrows. Upon entering, the space was wide and open -- gears and pipes followed a golden central core that ... was dulled. "So, this is where it originates. Aahhh..." In the center of the room was a mural of the entire terminal and what it could have looked like in its prime. Illuminated only by two lights on the floor, each detail showed even the mechanics in the basement of the terminal. Mmm... did Iris plan for this too? (edited)

"I've never seen anything like it..." Sinclair glanced around meekly, but was emboldened by his lover in his hand. "I don't know if we found it... but I wouldn't be quite sure what to do with it anyway..." Sinclair wasn't even going to begin to pretend like he grasped what was at hand.

"I think... I've been left with more questions than answers." She looked at the mural, dragging her finger along various parts of it. Dust built up on her glove before she swiped at the mural with her entire hand. Celia lit up. "It was a practice room! So, that means... is there something that powers these...?" She whispered, fingers touching the painted gears and axels beneath the terminal. "Hmm. Maybe we need to somehow... return power to the engine room?"

“Really? Maybe you should have pursued another career as a detective… but how do we get power back on?” Sinclair’s gaze idly followed Celia as she meandered by the mural. This wasn’t what I had in mind for today… but as long as she’s happy. (edited)

"I do have a Seven Association ID," Celia stated matter-of-factly. "...besides, I..." She wanted to say she didn't get a choice in having this career, but it would've dampened the mood. Celia just shrugged instead. "I dunno, I kinda like doing this a little more. My brain won't get me in trouble." Her mind went back to getting the power on. Right as she was about to come to a solution, three voices echoed from the top of the room. "...missing..." "Singularity? Are we..." "No, maybe the basement." Celia looked up and held a hand out. It was the rest of their party, all reaching the same roadblock. "Celia," Ishmael called down, "you beat us here!" "Mhm. Any ideas?" All three sinners shook their head. For once, not even Faust was truly certain of an answer. Hmm... this has to be really old, then, for Faust to be stumped too...

Sinclair suddenly felt rather pointless. He was far from the smartest or most logical person in the room, and if even Faust was lost, it seemed unlikely he would gave an answer. Instead, he paced around nearby. Geez...what should I even do? As far as the thinking goes, everyone else has got it covered it seems. I'm just as much in the dark as they are anyway.

"We found the basement, if that helps," Iris stated. "Did you go up?" "Mhm... to the top floor. It was... a practice room. It's destroyed now." "Sad," Ishmael sighed. Celia kept looking at the mural, trying to find an answer. "The basement..." "The market street outside faced destruction as well." Faust's voice carried through the vastness of the engine room. Celia tilted her head. Hmm... is there anything there, then? Faust continued speaking. "Iris made repairs to the speakers in the lobby, which dropped... this." Faust held the hand of a clock. Celia lifted her arms to try and receive it -- when it was dropped, she barely caught it. Does this go somewhere? As Sinclair paced, a small golden flicker made itself visible in the cast shadow of the gears above. It was a key, appearing to have been lost or cast aside.

The shine caught his eyes, and Sinclair bent down to grab the key. An ornate design that began to show signs of age, similar to most of the splendor in the room. He reconvened with his coworkers. "Um... Sorry to interrupt... but I found this..." Sinclair presented the key towards them, hoping they could have found a use for it.

"A key?" All four voices murmured in unison. "That's gotta be to the basement," Ishmael reasoned. Faust nodded. "The door was locked when we reached it, so that must be it." "...Then..." Iris whispered. "You two should go there. We'll try to get the engine going, and fix the rest of the speakers." "Wait. The hand--" "Good luck," Iris said while the other three left the room. Celia sighed and stomped her foot lightly. "I didn't even get to ask about...-- hm. Well, now we have two new clues. Good looking out, Sinclair."

Sinclair blushed a little when she complimented him. "O-oh. Thank you... I suppose we should ah... get to the basement then?" Sinclair extended his hand out again to her. "R-ready when you are..."

Celia took Sinclair's hand. "Ah, ok...!" The two walked together up the stairs to the exit of the engine room, and into the lobby again. It seemed like progress was made, as when Celia looked to another exit in the central lobby, the doors to the market were open and the former blocks in the road were cleared. They must've found something... Holding the clock hand in hers, Celia walked up to the door. "This has to be the basement, right? Try the key."

"Mhm.." Sinclair pushed the key into the lock and turned it till it clicked. "Ah... there it is." He pushed open the door, but was left confused at what exactly he was looking at.

Down a small flight of stairs appeared to be a workshop. A wide desk with an endless array of various old items and papers was towards the left side, a large pile of books on the right. In the very back was another piano -- fortunately unscathed, attached to a grandfather clock conveniently missing a hand. A slot was in the wood, as if meant to be fed sheet music. "Ah -- this hand is... for the clock right there, I assu--" Right as Celia was going to rush to the piano, a glaring sound played through the entire terminal. She ducked down to cover her ears, clearly startled by the noise. "Urk....agh--" It didn't seem to stop. It was like nails on a chalkboard, screeching and blaring with mechanic noise.

Sinclair held his hand to his ears, trying to block out the sound. He was going to say something encouraging, but there was no point presently. Instead he hunkered down with his ears assaulted by the loud noise. What the hell? It just started out up no where... ugh... why is it so loud? Is there a way to turn it off..?

Celia half-crawled to try and reach Sinclair, eventually getting close enough to pull him in and shield his ears with her arms. The entire building shook for a few moments as if an earthquake struck. Geez…. Whatever’s causing this might make this place bury itself if it doesn’t stop soon. She didn’t even bother to cover her own ears properly, just making sure Sinclair was fine and that any stray boards or objects hit her instead. Then, after a few moments, it… stopped. “…What… was that?” (edited)

He tried to shake off a daze, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her. "I don't know... ugh. Now my head hurts..." Sinclair gave her head a gentle pat. "I'd rather you worried about yourself more than me..."

“I—I’ll be okay. I would’ve been fine.” She gently pressed her face against his cheek — only the porcelain of her mask touched, but the thought was there. “I’m just glad you’re fine. Uh… hm. I hope the others are okay.” She let go, slowly rising back to her feet and grabbing the clock hand once more. Celia walked to the piano. I can just… Standing on the small bench, Celia anchored herself on the edge of the piano. She carefully put the hand on the clock, adjusting until it read close enough to the right time — last she remembered, it was just about to be 4 P.M. Right as she finished, however, the building shook more — no glaring sounds this time. I think… we might be doing something right, then. Somehow, she kept her balance. Hands were on the wall, keeping her steady while it felt like the ceiling would collapse. (edited)

Sinclair had trouble finding his balance, having to use his hands and feet to support himself. "C-Celia! Be careful!" I-I can't tell if she did something right... or if we're going to be flattened in a few moments.

“I’m okay!” When the shaking stopped, she found herself somehow having kept her balance. Celia stepped off of the stool, pulling her gloves up. “Are you two okay?!” Ishmael’s voice called from the top of the stairs. The rest of their party was finally reaching the basement. “Uh… i’m… yeah, we’re alright. Are you?” “Well, that first bout of shaking was our fault, what happened here—“ “The clock happened, probably,” Iris stated. All heads turned. It was ticking carefully, filling the room with a rhythmic tapping. Iris turned her attention to Sinclair. “You’re shaken up— will you be alright, are you hurt at all?”

"I-I'm fine. Promise. Just need to find my footing..." Sinclair recomposed himself and clambered back onto his feet. "I-I'm just glad no ones hurt... It looks like we managed to figure out whatever was missing though..." I guess she was right about the seven association thing...

Celia stepped down, dusting off her coat. She examined the others -- Faust's hair was ruffled, Ishmael was just visibly tired, and Iris was covered in oil and soot. "You're worse for wear." "Ah, uh, we fixed most of the speakers," Iris said quietly. "Now that the clock is working, does that mean you...." "Faust handled the issue with the engine room. After finding the right parts, it is now working -- however, Faust must restate that it is not running." Not... running. Hm. She turned to the piano. "Sinclair... can you try the piano, see if it does something?" Celia asked. She remembered that when her foot touched the keys, the piano made no sound -- hopefully this time, that wouldn't be the case.

"O-oh, sure thing." Sinclair tried to recall something from the books he had been reading. He tapped a few of the keys, and was pleasently surprised to hear the music that came from them. "I-I suppose it... works again?"

"..." Another rumbling happened right after Sinclair played. Celia quickly rushed to sit next to him, trying to keep her balance. Iris quickly held Faust, pushing her head into the crook of her neck to shield her from anything -- a single lightbulb fell and shattered itself on the ground. "..." When the commotion stopped again, Celia hummed. "Maybe that time it was a sign we did something wrong. Sinclair... do you still have that key?"

"Yes... I do..." Sinclair was beginning to get somewhat annoyed by this ordeal. "But what should I do with it? Is there another door or something that needs to be opened?" Sinclair brandished the key, trying to find some sort of clue on its design

"Put it in the piano." The order was simple, as if it were obvious. Celia's right hand hovered over the keys of the piano. "Hmm... it's like an actual music box, then, but you play the music." "Good job stating the obvious, Iris," Ishmael joked. "Making it clear to the children, is all." Celia looked over, annoyed at being called a child, but kept quiet.

"Uh... alright." It took a bit of checking, but Sinclair managed to find a sort of slot for the key. It was rather anticlimactic though... as nothing seemed to have happened. "...Am I... missing something?"

"Mm-mm." Celia slowly played the keys again. The sound seemed to have left just the piano, and whirring sounded beneath them. The station was slowly working again, carrying the soft sound of the keys. "Ah...we did it." "Wonderful job," Iris praised with a faint smile. She seemed half-asleep by now. Celia stopped. "...I think we should tell the Manager."

"Um... with all due respect, what would Dante know about this..? If even miss Faust was left stumped..." He did not mean it with malicious intent, but Dante's memory loss made the chances of him understanding what was happening very slim. Still, Sinclair was not the disagreeing type so he swiftly double backed. "A-although, if you do think he could help... I guess I shouldn't disagree..."

Iris shook her head. "No, I think it's something that goes beyond Dante this time. Although, maybe we'll be allowed a break after telling that we've completed this?" "Limbus Company will be notified of the terminal's repair shortly. As of now, it can only be presumed that the other sinners will be finished with their work soon, and we can reconvene. So for now..." A sign that the first true phase of Iris' earlier plan was going to begin. "... get changed on the bus, and relax." That was a word Celia missed. She was curious about what would happen now -- is someone going to lock themselves away, playing music through the station? Would it be the task of one of the musically inclined sinners -- of which there were few -- when they visited this one? As the rest of their group left, Celia lingered behind. Ahhh... what am I even going to change into now?

Sinclair was left with his head spinning. Time and time again he did wish that his comrades could be more transparent with their explanations. Instead he was left to his thoughts once again. That was quite the detour... if I could even call it that. I just hope the day can get on track now... Sinclair didn't intend to get so worked up, but for Celia he wanted her to be as happy as could be.

When they were left alone, Celia quickly held Sinclair in her arms. She softly giggled. "That was interesting..." she whispered. "Oh, do you think they're gonna prepare some special food since it's my birthday?" She was glossing over the entire confusing ordeal, but she seemed fine. Celia's fingers traced down Sinclair's arm, until she took his hand.

"Mmm... I think so. There's no better time than today I'd say..." Sinclair felt his heart jump with her gentle motion. It seemed like no matter how many times she would hold him, he would find himself flustered all over again. "You really are talented... I'm always being amazed by you."

“Aaahh, you can’t fluster me like that…. i’m gonna get embarrassed,” Celia whined. She started to lead Sinclair out of the basement and back to the bus, letting go of his hand when they were near any of the other sinners — nevermind that her heart ached just a bit when that warmth left. Celia quietly ushered herself to her room. She walked past sinners cleaning or just chatting, even walking past the beginnings of her cake being planned. Comfortable clothing… She thought while opening her door. Celia’s mind soon combed through her options as she kept her back flat against the now shut door. Hmm. (edited)

Sinclair smiled cheekily, and separated from her as they came to their own rooms. I've got a plan today... I think. Sinclair hoped he had an idea on what to do, as otherwise he was drawing blanks. So instead he found his glasses, and reshined his shoes to ease his mind.

The easiest plan would be truly to just get into something comfortable. Not many clothes were at her disposal, and it’d be too much effort to try and use the mirror to take up an ID’s clothing. So, Celia put on her casual wear. That same dress shirt, tied with its usual black bow, cuffs neatly folded back exactly to her wrists. Even her cloak, white and only slightly stained from the months of hard labor and occasional bloodshed, sleeves billowing and hood withdrawn. Stepping out into the bus again, Celia glanced towards a few sinners and listened to their conversation. “…Chocolate. Everyone loves chocolate.” said Gregor. “Right, but is Celia everyone? No, she’s special. We have fresh strawberries, why not use those?” Rodya suggested next. “…That’s Madame Sei’s favorite,” interjected Victor. “Are you all even aware of what Celia likes? It’s caramel.” “Caramel, schmaramel. Just make something sweet. She’s probably not had it in a while either way,” Holden grumbled with an eyeroll. Celia laughed to herself. They’re putting in a lot of care… Right as she sat down to rest, though, Iris approached and stood nearby with Faust. “…Is Sinclair here yet?” She asked quietly. “I have a favor to ask.”

While it looked like it was going well for Celia, Sinclair was panicking in his room. He had suddenly realized, that he did not have much in terms of casual clothing. I wore this last time! It's special today... I can't just... damn it. With a huff, Sinclair pulled the gray turtleneck over his head. It'll have to do... and I'll have to invest in new clothes. Good as time as any, it's getting warmer. With a quick look over, Sinclair was ready for the day. He slipped the gloves back on, and hid his glasses in his bag before walking out into the hall.

When he entered, Iris immediately locked eyes with him. Her sunset-colored eyes commanded attention, even if always half-open as she kept herself awake. “Sinclair,” Iris said with a vague sense of urgency. Celia turned back. Is he… in trouble? “Hi, um. Dante was going to allot us with more time to get used to the Terminal before we head out to the next bough, but Faust and I got dragged into kitchen duty, and Sei’s been glaring at us since we got back… I don’t think I can avoid it. … Could you accompany Celia out so she doesn’t get lost?” Iris gave a half-smile with her alibi. Celia seemed confused, but almost relieved she’d get more alone time with Sinclair. Me? Lost? What does she think I am…?

"O-oh... well if you're certain." Sinclair was more than happy to hear these news of course, but he wore a calm expression that betrayed this. I'm not certain what part of what she's saying is true or false... but I'll take it. "N-nothing bad will happen... I-I promise!"

"Got it. Thanks." And just like that, the other women were making their way towards the kitchen. Celia stood tall and adjusted her cloak. "Ah, I-- Did she--? Hm. Convenient... ... I'm ready when you are, though." Celia said with an exaggerated bow.

Sinclair felt sheepish about her theatrics. "Y-you don't have to do all of that... I'm ready to go whenever you are though." Now that everyone else appeared to be out of sight, Sinclair pushed his glasses onto his head to try and look at Celia in full clarity.

Behind her mask, Celia stifled a grin. “It was an urge,” she shyly explained. “Let’s go…” Celia subtly held her hand out, extending her fingers past her long sleeves to reach for Sinclair’s hand.

Sinclair slipped a glove hand into hers. "Mhm.. I'll be counting on you to make sure I don't get lost either." He smiled warmly, more than joyful to have her with him.

“Understood.” Knowing this meant they’d get extremely lost, Celia didn’t seem to let her anxiety be known. She squeezed Sinclair’s hand only to then lead him off the bus — he was going to determine their course today. “I’ll follow your lead.”

"O-oh? Me? Err... if you say so." I-Isn't... Wasn't this in her home town? Shouldn't she be the charting the course? Ah... I-I can do this. "Well... I guess we can walk around and see what we can find..." Despite him supposed to be taking charge, Sinclair's voice betrayed him. His voice seemed to somehow be less confident than usual. Can't screw this up...don't want to either.

Celia laughed to herself. She kept close to Sinclair, occasionally moving her sleeves so they’d be out of the way. “Oh— what about that park, actually? That we saw on the third floor?” She didn’t realize that the park itself was familiar — just with an entire bus terminal now superimposed in its center. Such is the nature of these establishments, with little care of where they relocate or what they trample on. In her lost memory were days of walking by this park, seeing the events and ceaseless W Corp. advertising… only left with haziness and now overwritten memories. “It feels… nostalgic.” But those hazy memories can become clearer over time.

"S-sure... I think the weather is more than suitable for the park." With the burden of choice lifted off his chest, Sinclair was able to unwind a little more. He was completely focused on the sensation of his lover with him, and walked through the streets. He soaked in the environment of the station, savoring every new light and street. It's not often we get peace like this...

Celia nodded happily. Now's the best part of the birthday... it's spending time with those I love. Or, maybe, just the one i love. She held his hand and squeezed it lightly, half-leaning her head on his shoulder. "Thanks for taking me out," she murmured. "I.... am glad we're getting this time together."

"O-oh! It's no problem..." Wait... wasn't I supposed to be taking her somewhere..? H-how much time do I even have? Damn... alright. Straight shot to the gazebo then. "I saw something scenic over in the park. If you don't mind... I'd like to stop there first before we get around more..." Please say yes...

"Oh, oh, of course!" Suddenly, her stomach was full of butterflies. It was their second 'date,' but this one already felt more special than the last. Perhaps it was the fact it was her birthday, or the location being close to her home (even if her mind wasn't actively aware) that made Celia more shy, and that much happier. She would willingly ignore that such happiness was bound to end soon. For now, she was being offered to see something, and her only thought was... "I'd love to see it."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, confirming its presence to her. "Right. N-not much time in the day, lets not waste it." He had seen the gazebo from the windmill, so he had a rough approximation of where to lead her. Lo and behold, they managed to stumble their way into the garden they had seen. "Hmm... I think this is it..?"

Looking at it up close, it was more picturesque than initially seen. Dots of pinks, violets, whites, and even yellows of different flowers dotted the landscape. It was an area where nothing bad in the city could harm it — even the looming ‘threat’ of a bus terminal suddenly relocating or disappearing in its presence. “Ooh… it’s beautiful…” Almost like a scene out of a movie. Almost instantly, Celia wanted to take a photo just to capture the moment for as long as possible. Just like the last time — but it was due to happen, as Sinclair had his camera bag. Things would go all according to plan, hopefully.

A view like this was scarce in the city. Sinclair was rather happy that he got to see it with Celia of all people. "It's kind of sad... that everyone else is missing this. O-oh! Um! Lets check out t-the gazebo." According to Iris...there's a piano here. So... I hope she's right.

“It’s okay… maybe we’ll be back here someday, or the terminal will relocate to another pretty place.” Approaching the gazebo, it was exactly like Iris mentioned — although not as pristine as likely expected. The instrument had flowering moss on external parts, the gazebo having the same moss in addition to a few vines and bushes of roses. “…Woaaah… an entire piano…” Celia cooed. “This is such a scenic view.”

Sinclair’s heart fluttered hearing her voice. “Yeah… it really is beautiful…” Now or never… Sinclair guided her over to the piano and ushered her to sit next to him. “Um… if you wouldn’t mind… I want to try playing it for a little.”

Following his instructions, she sat down and rested her hands on her thighs. “Ah- I’d love to hear you play!” Celia said with a noticeable uptilt in her voice. Has he been practicing? For this?… How sweet… Her heart fluttered at the thought — then, came thoughts of what she could do for Sinclair. Hmm… well, first I’ll hear his improvement.

Sinclair tested a few keys before starting his performance. The entire ordeal was nerve wracking. Her sitting right by his side as his fingers glided over the keys was almost too much to handle. But still, there was noticeable improvement. Ever since his passion for the piano was reignited by Celia, he had practiced often with the sole hope that he would not stumble in this moment. (edited)

Celia quietly removed her mask as he played, setting it on the edge of the piano. We’re alone, so it’s okay. On her face was a subtle, genuine smile. Like she was falling in love all over again, touched by the gesture of Sinclair going out of his way to learn and play piano for her on her birthday. “…”

Sinclair was focused entirely on his playing till he was finished. As he played the final note and the melody came to an end, he let out a sigh of relief. His face was rather flush, but he turned his face to Celia. "..." When he opened his mouth to speak to her though, he couldn't find any words. Instead, Sinclair just looked into her face. Hoping that even if he was at a loss for words at the moment, the gesture was felt.

Her smile only grew in that time. Although all day her emotions were concealed, for now they were upfront. Celia hugged Sinclair tightly, burying her face into his shoulder. "You play so well...! I'm so proud, t--thank you..." Sniffle. She held back tears of joy -- not that she had to, but perhaps it was to briefly save face so that when they returned, she could keep her composure.

Sinclair wrapped his arms around her and gently pat her. "You... inspired me to play again. I don't think I would have cared to learn again otherwise..." Sinclair tried his best to not let his emotions show on his voice, but he felt a little weak in her arms. "C-Celia... would you give me the privilege... of taking a photo with you?"

When she let go, she looked at Sinclair directly. Celia's gaze was always warm and calming, her half-tired eyes always seemed like she was staring at something beyond. It was rather cute when paired with the rest of her soft features. "Of course. I'd be honored to, actually." She tried her best to straighten herself up, patting down her hair and adjusting the collar of her shirt. I don't think I'll ever forget this.

Sinclair placed the camera atop the piano, and primed it for the photo. "It should be able to capture us if we're sitting down..." Sinclair fixed a few minor malfunctions in his appearance, before leaning in closer to her. This is something unforgettable... but just in case.

Celia leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling genuinely. Thoughts about where she'd put the photo -- in the library, near the piano, or even in her room. As the camera clicked, Celia slipped her hand in Sinclair's. A subtle gesture, one laced with her affection.

The photo was the perfect capture of a moment of love. Hand in hand, both smiling. Even if they soon would not forget this moment, there was physical proof of it as well. Sinclair murmured gently. "T-thank you..." It felt like there was nothing more that could sully the moment except for the crunch of time, but Sinclair was more than satisfied to stay here with her till then.

Celia leaned in to kiss Sinclair right on the cheek. Right as her lips made contact, she squeezed his hand lightly. Her free hand went up to adjust Sinclair's glasses. "I didn't say it, but you look really cute." "...almost a little cuter than last time."

"C-cute?" Sinclair swiftly shifted from pink to red as she fixed his glasses, simply staring at her with an almost dumbfounded expression. "I-I...Y-you um... look cute too..." It felt lke the only part of Sinclair's body that was capable of moving was his mouth, and he could only stare at Celia with a blush.

"...Thanks." She brushed a stray hair on Sinclair behind his ear -- it was a tender, loving gesture. Celia stared on in her usual half-conscious gaze giving delicate attention to her lover. She smiled. "Uhm... I think we might have a little more time to walk before we should head back. May we?"

Sinclair nodded gingerly and took her hand, standing up slowly with her. "O-of course... lead the way. I'm here for every last thing you need today..." Sinclair was still blushing, and could not bring himself to look at Celia directly. He instead kept his eyes low and stuck to the ground, looking as if he were studying his footwear.

Quickly picking up her mask, Celia put it on before holding Sinclair's hand in her own. Their fingers interlocked, and she kept him by her side -- as if scared to let go, lest she lose him. She walked through the park. Past flowers she's never seen, or things she's long forgotten the names of. Surely, it wasn't too long until the two would be expected to be seen. The sun was setting. and the clear afternoon air was slowly cooling into the evening. It was like for just this moment, they weren't working a job that required the deaths of dozens each day.

As they took their last steps around the park and began their walk back to the bus, Sinclair was full of fuzzy feelings. He couldn't name them precisely, but he knew they were all facets of love. And they were all focused on Celia. He gave her hand three little squeezes, just as she often did with him. I. Love. You.

Right as he did it, Celia stopped in her tracks. She turned back, and even if her mask was now concealing her face, it was clear she was blushing and looking at him like a deer in headlights. She pressed her face against his cheek briefly. Just cold porcelain on skin, and now four squeezes back. I. Love. You. Too. Turning away, Celia sheepishly walked the two of them back to Mephistopheles, letting go of his hand subtly so the others wouldn't notice. Now... is a good time to have the mask.

Sinclair was quiet as a mouse as they returned to the bus. He wringed his hands together as he felt his face grow hot with embarrassment, every last sensation still fresh in his mind and on repeat. He didn't have long to mull it over though, as soon as they boarded the air was filled with loud cheering and excitement in the air. A collective "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" shot out from all the Sinners. Some voices more easily heard than others but all were present regardless.

Celia was pleasantly startled by the surprise. The sight was humorous to see — some sinners were covered in cake flour, others were perfectly clean, a few had noticeable streaks and stains of syrups and fruit on their clothes. Then, right in the center of the aisle, standing on a swivel-chair and dressed in a makeshift chef’s uniform was their leader and bossy princess, Sei. “You! Birthday girl!” She shouted, aiming a whisk covered in whipped cream towards Celia. “Your cake is ready~” “Ah—thank you!” “Now, come. You must be starving, come eat and open your gifts.” Comically, Hong Lu stepped from the crowd and carefully pushed the chair down the aisle so Sei could hold out her hand and receive Celia’s. Just before their hands met, Sei gave Sinclair a stern glare — one that did not match her next words. “And, Thank you for keeping her safe. Your contribution is appreciated.” Celia tilted her head. That was… oddly nice of the normally snooty woman.

Sinclair clammed up when she glared at him, nodding meekly in response. Scary... He chose to drift near Iris instead, taking advantage of the commotion to talk to her. "Ah... how did things go? I hope it wasn't too much trouble for you guys... I'm glad to say everything went well... no major errors on my part..."

Iris gave a lighthearted salute. As crowds made their way towards the kitchen, she brushed some flour off of her shoulder and gave a half-grin. "In the end... we made a cake. I can't say the process up to that point was smooth, though." She nodded towards the messier sinners, the worst of which being Heathcliff, who still had clumps of what appeared to be a prototype cake baked into his uniform. "I think we're all due for some cleanup after this. But, seriously, good job. Celia looks... happy. More than usual, I assume that was your doing?" Iris walked to the kitchen after things were empty. By the time her and Sinclair arrived, it seemed the festivities had begun again.

"I-It might have been..." The party, or as close to one could get on the bus, was in full motion. An excited chatter filled the air, although most hung closely to their respective groups. Still, everyone seemed willing enough to play nice for the sake of the day. Even Outis took a break from her typical demeanor to keep the mood up. "Hm... It's kind of nice for all the shouting to not be at each other for once..."

"Agreed--- oh." Already, a knife was being waved around as different sinners fought over who'd slice the cake. Lighthearted shouts of "me!" "No, not him!" "Let ME do it!" echoed in groups, before the same swivel chair was pushed ahead. "NONE of you! I'll do it. Give me the knife." With no protest, Ryoshu, who currently held the blade, gave it to Sei. Celia, who cowered beneath them, watched anxiously. Sei hopped off the chair, adjusted her apron adorned with the words 'kiss the chef,' and carefully cut the cake. "Already? Hm. They're wanting to go back to their rooms fast," Iris murmured. She looked towards Sinclair. "...did you get her any extra gifts while you two were out?"

Sinclair felt the color drain out of his face. A gift. A gift. A gift. A gift. A gift. A gift. Scheiße... "I-I...forgot... I was... p-playing the piano and then she wanted to walk through the park so we never went shopping..."

She watched his expression change, quietly offering a pat on the shoulder. "It's fine. I'm sure the memories you made were enough. Besides... the shops at this terminal aren't as nice as the last one's." Iris returned to Faust's side, joining in the chorus of excitement among the sinners. Without even a birthday song for Celia, they were already digging into the mediocre cake -- at least it was untouched by Sei, only directed by her -- and enjoying it. Rodya served Celia her slice, giving her a pat on the head. "You're all dolled up~ awwww. Say, have you had alcohol yet?" "...?" Iris stepped in. "Now, Rodya, even if Celia's an adult, are we sure we want to--" "Paahhh, Iris~~ don't be such a downer. It's a party.... maybe Celia should have a sip. What do you say?" "...." Celia looked towards Sinclair. Rodya took note of this. "Oh, you want Clair to try with you? You're good pals, why not?" "..." That wasn't what I was trying to imply....

"H-huh? Drinking...? Um..." I was never allowed to drink before... my parents were more than happy to enjoy a bottle of something during holidays, or to celebrate whatever achievement my sister had... "I-I guess... I'm not entirely opposed..?" Sinclair bit his tongue nervously. He wasn't sure if he was saying the right thing, but if Rodya believed for the sake of the party he should... the last thing he would want was to ruin Celia's special day.

"Rodya." "eh?" She asked, already receiving a glass and bottle from Hong Lu -- who appeared to be taking a brief break from his chariot duties. "Are you sure...?" "It's fiiiiine. See? Sinclair said he's not opposed? And we'll just let them have a sip." Rodya grabbed a straw, putting it in the (cheap) wine glass to hand to Celia. "Swirl it, let it sit for a moment, then taste. Got it?" "Mm." Iris seemed uneasy -- but, knowing she was just slightly overprotective, she let it go and put on a shallow smile. She reached for Faust's hand, as if to tether herself to the other sinner. Following the instructions, Celia carefully slotted the straw into the mouth hole of her mask. Then, immediately, pushed the cup away and shook her head. "...ggghhhghghh." "Eh? gross? Ahh, she doesn't have a taste for it yet. Go on, Clair, try!" Rodya said, passing the glass over. "....you... like that?" "Oh, I love it. but maybe that's cause my taste buds aren't as fresh and strong as yours. Savor that, mmkay?" "mhm." At that moment, Celia decided she never wanted to try alcohol again.

It was Sinclair's turn next. Swirl, sit, sip. He followed Rodya's instructions to a T. The taste was strange. It was obviously not top shelf, and who knows where this bottle had been. But more than the flavor, it was the smell of it. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his memory, he could remember the scent of alcohol. He was never allowed to drink, but he had been around others when drinks were being handed around. Someone opening a bottle with cheer and happiness in the air. Surrounded by people who didn't quite know him, but nor did he know them. Buzzing voices of a million different topics that he couldn't begin to wrap his head around. When was this? When Christmas meant something else... Where was this? Home... Sinclair downed whatever was left in the glass, and had to choke back his urge to cough. It was almost repulsive. Almost.

Rodya clapped joyously. "Thank you! We spent a pretty penny on that, don't let it go to waste." "I'd like to correct you, miss. It was actually fairly cheap, you were getting bourgois on a budget." Sei corrected, taking the glass out of Sinclair's hand to place in the sink. This time, Heathcliff was pushing her chair around, his face overcast as he passed by. "Mm... I don't think I want that ever again." Celia murmured. "All good. Now you've tried. Go, have cake," Iris said while grabbing herself a slice. Celia looked down at the plate she had -- it was half empty, as she snuck a bite when no eyes were on her. Guh... I suddenly feel so young again. The sentiment was met as she looked at the others. They were just talking, eating, discussing topics she could barely make out and drinking glasses full of what felt like poison to her. Celia tried to enjoy herself, still, though. She was surrounded by those who cared about her most -- a 'family' in a way, even if just coworkers bound by individual contracts. "mm... thank you." (edited)

Sinclair was satisfied with idly refilling a cup with drink. He wasn't quite sure what to do in the party, but was happy enough to partake in the refreshments and the nostalgia they provided. He remained within earshot of Celia, just in case she wanted to converse with him. It's... weird. It tastes a little less worse the more I drink it though... Tastes a little less like anything though...

It felt like the alcohol was endless, and the energy was bottomless as well. Each new cup was refilled, but Iris kept a careful eye on Sinclair. She fed Faust her cake, feeding herself in the process -- Faust wasn't entirely opposed to this. "Oh, right. Celia," A voice spoke from behind. Celia turned around -- it was Ryoshu, gaze sharp "YGM. Let us know when you're ready to open. DTLT, though." * "Mm? O...kay.... just a little longer." Celia had no clue what Ryoshu was on about. She simply kept subtly eating her cake. It was an airy dulce de leche cake -- oddly luxurious for their situation, but with the higher number of chefs among their crew, it wasn't too out of the question. She was happy about it, though. Such a sweet cake.

Sinclair wasn't sure where he was at in terms of drinks, but everything was starting to blend together. He was definitely inebriated at this point, and with the little rational thought his mind could still produce, decided it would be a good time to quit drinking. The distance between him and Celia seemed very far away. Truthfully it wasn't that far, but with how awkward it was to walk currently, it took more time than he liked. "Y-You... g-gaht mail..." Sinclair started translating to Celia when he finally got to her. "Don't take too l-l... hic long..." The scent of alcohol on him, and the loss of decorum was enough for one to deduce that Sinclair had gotten drunk. He was a lightweight, but he had no way of knowing that till now.

By the time her plate was empty, Celia had processed what Ryoshu said -- thanks to Sinclair. Her gaze scanned different pieces of the room, landing on Sinclair -- and Iris right behind him. "Ah, right." The knight was glaring at Rodya. The glare was met with a shrug and a wink -- Rodya already knew why Iris was so stern, but she was a bit too tipsy to really care. The taller sinner rubbed Celia's head. "Celi, you full now?" "mm." "Yah, well, Iris is looking awfully mad at me." Iris sighed. "That's because you're letting s--" "Letting Sinclair drink? It's fine! Celia may not have liked it, but look. He's having fun! and we're gonna have more funnnn, are you ready to open your gifts Birthday Gal?" Celia's head turned to the table towards the kitchen's viewing window. A small pile of gifts wrapped differently were laid out, of different sizes and colors of wrapping. "...Am I?" "It's your call." "Uh.... in a moment." A smear of icing was left on the mask, carefully wiped away by Celia's wrist.

Sinclair mumbled out a brief apology to the closest person every time a hiccup escaped him, even if they weren't bothering to listen. Thankfully for the Sinclair of the future, he was not embarrassing himself, and seemed to just pace around instead. "Sh-Shelia... how is your b-birthday..?"

"Ah-- oh, it's good. I'm happy we're all having fun." "Gift time?" A deep, excitable voice called from the other side of the room. A few other calls of "Gifts? Gifts!" followed -- the behaviorally relaxed sinners (otherwise known as troublemakers) knew it was time for their suspense to be fulfilled. Celia dipped below the other sinners around her, making her way to the table. Rodya followed, then Gregor and Ishmael. Iris and Faust followed a few steps behind, Iris' halo flickering fervently despite her usual tired expression. The rest stayed put, except for Sei being pushed again by her lackey -- this time, it was actually Dante. < I can't believe I have to do this. > "No. no, dear Manager. I can't have you complain while being my transport." < Sorry. Uhm... your gift? > "That box over there. I got it." Celia was suddenly overwhelmed by the attention on her.

Sinclair stumbled behind the pack, suddenly wishing someone would give him a shoulder to lean on. "S-Shlow down... ah..." Gifts... I forgot mine... I think? Did I forget it... in my room? Or somewhere else? It'd be rude... to leave and go now though... I'll go to her room later...

The array of gifts was carefully opened. With each new one, Celia read out who gifted it and took a moment to savor each gift. From Rodion, a pair of opaque black tights and a ribbon for her hair. From Victor and outis, a record player. It was unclear how they got it. From Yi Sang, a small desk lamp fashioned like a sapling. From Hong Lu, an envelope of ... an uncountable amount of Ahn and a perfume he recalled his grandmother recommending. From Meursault and Natsume, a cookbook. To refine a skill... From Ryoshu and Holden, a set of matches and a scented candle shaped like a piano. Seemed to be a purchase from a while ago, given the receipt in the bag. From Donqui and Gregor, signed copies of some books Celia once mentioned wanting -- signed by her two biggest inspirations, Iris and Noa. One last gift from Dante... a small plush, fashioned like a cat -- a friend for Mirai. Celia put her hands to her face, sniffling. Rodya immediately hugged her as she teared up. "Aaah.... thank you....!"

Sinclair was feeling a little bashful at the fact his gift wasn’t here with the rest of the unveilings. My gift… right. It’s gonna be so cool… and Celia’s gonna love it… and then she’s gonna hug me… A wide grin was on Sinclair’s face. If someone hadn’t realized he was currently intoxicated, they would just assume that the party put him in a good mood. (edited)

“Ahem— you’re forgetting one.” “I am?” Celia asked. She looked over to the larger box left beside the table. “Oh, Sei, did you…” Sei folded her arms, half-sitting on the edge of the chair she was being pushed around on. Dante seemed panicked by this, their arms holding the edge of said chair while narrowly avoiding Sei’s hair messing with their head. “Go on. Open it.” Celia kneeled down and undid the ornate gold ribbon, opening the lid of the box right after. Inside was a small floor chair, a flower-shaped pillow, and a blanket folded underneath it. “…It’s for that library. Your little cushion is drab, maybe you’d rather sit on something cuter. Or for any guests you might bring.” With the implication that Sei wanted to visit more, she waved her hand around dismissively. Celia nodded quietly, then motioned as if he wanted someone else to help carry her things. “Ah- uhm. Thank you, can I-“ “Come here.” Celia awkwardly gave her senior a hug - she passed a glance towards Sinclair in the process. He’s…. Smiling. Is he alright?

Hug… hugs are nice… I want to hug Celia… I’ll hug her when I visit her room… His smile continued to beam, although his footing was a little uncertain. Awkwardly shifting on his feet to ensure he wouldn’t fall over. “Mm… it’s sho nice today…”

A hand grabbed Sinclair, pulling him close — it was Iris. She had a stern expression, but it was nothing more than a small shift from her usual gaze. ”Careful, you’re stumbling everywhere,” she warned him. < Ah, Celia. Happy birthday again, > Dante called meekly behind the office chair. “Thank you, Manager!” She softly replied. She held the envelope from Hong Lu, staring into its contents. “…Could I ask how much Ahn this is?” “Ohh, enough for you to not worry about expenses for quite a while.” “He took your age and multiplied it by quite a large number,” Sei commented with a smirk. Celia nodded. She tucked the envelope away. The rest of her gifts were carried off, given safe spots, and left for her to sort out on her own time. Right then, the group split again into their smaller pockets— Celia immediately looked towards Iris. “Good birthday?” “Mhm.” “Wonderful. That’s what I hoped for.”

Sinclair was held in place by Iris, preventing him from falling over. Hug… sort of? That’s nice… this is nice… The ground was starting to look a less blurry, and slowly everything felt a bit clearer. It would take a bit longer for Sinclair to be more sober, but the cheap drink seemed to have its effects subside rather quickly. Head hurts… sort of? Not really… Celia’s here… I wanted to stop by her room later… for something. She’s… warm and I like her… “Hi… hic Shelia…”

“Mm, hi. You okay, Sinclair?” She adjusted a stray hair on his head, her hands returning behind her back. Iris gave a brief eyeroll and a grin. “The wine Rodya gave him is getting to him. He’ll be okay soon, I think he’s just a lightweight.” “…Ah. He must have the palette for it.” “Looks like it. He’s been blubbering and grinning all night.” Celia laughed. She nodded, then quickly leaned in to give Sinclair a tight, sentimental hug. “Thanks for taking me out, by the way,” she whispered into his ear.

“Yay… hug!” Sinclair started giggling while he wrapped her arms around her. Warm… soft… I like lots of things about her… she smells good… her voice is gentle… “I’m younger now… n-nooo fairrr…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Your birthday will happen and then we’ll be the same age again,” Celia comforted him quietly. Iris stifled a giggle. She got a bit closer to Faust, who remained quiet and observant of the situation. Celia tilted her head towards Sinclair, as if trying to smile. “And I’ll make sure your birthday’s just as good too.”

“You’re right… you’re so… shmart… hehe…” Sinclair gently rubbed the top of Celia’s head, occasionally hiccuping. By now, he was mostly in control of his faculties. Not wholly sober, but standing somewhere on the line of tipsy.

The headpat filled her stomach with butterflies. They were still around others, she didn’t want him to be too affectionate while most sinners were unaware of truly how close they were. But Celia kept up a good image. She nodded, keeping a hand on her mask to carefully hold it in place. By now, it was starting to get late — or rather, she was starting to get tired. “Mm, Iris?” “Hello. What’s happening?” “Ah, I’m… gonna go. I need to organize my new things.” “Fair. Goodnight - and Happy Birthday.” “Mm. Thanks.” Celia bowed politely and gave Sinclair a pat on the head, silently leaving the room and heading into the hallway. She slipped into her room, staring at the items with a smile. Iris looked down at Sinclair again. “Okay, little bird- are you sobering up?”

“A-ah?” Sinclair’s giggled a little more, playfully barraging Iris. “S-sho mean! I’m not little… I’m a growing boyyyy!” “I-I think… I might be though… kind of? Everything stopped spinning… but my head is a li’l fuzzy..”

“You’re little to me, growing or not.” She tucked a hand into one of her pockets. “Do you need water, a snack, or anything? There might be some cake left, looks like we made it a bit too sweet — anything you don’t eat is getting immediately funneled into the princess’s mouth.” Right as she said that, she looked over to Sei, who was once again being pushed by Heathcliff and being lovingly fed a hefty slice of cake by Hong Lu. “…looks like it’s already starting.”

“Uh… I think I’m fine… I think I needed to visit Celia’s room. Something in the back of my head says I wanted to drop by… I ought to go before she goes to bed.” I’m not sure exactly what it was though… “I-I should be fine to walk though… thank you for holding onto me Iris…” Sinclair felt a twinge of shame of having to be babysat for a portion of the party to ensure he didn’t stumble over his own feet.

“Alright. Have a good night then. Don’t worry about cleanup, I’ll make an excuse for you.” She had already predicted someone would have complained that Sinclair wasn’t around to help. Iris’ good standing with most sinners meant that she was decent leverage for making excuses or getting leeway on things like leisure time or falling behind in combat. Celia, in her room, opened up her new notebook. She jotted down everything that happened, sitting by the piano on a sturdy piece of the tree’s wood. “…Hmm…”

Sinclair stumbled over to the hall. He leaned on the wall for support, keeping himself steady. With a bit of effort, he made his way to Celia's door. Should I even bother with knocking..? She probably won't hear it... Despite his doubts he still knocked on the door, but was met with no reply. He turned the knob gently, and walked into her room. Urgh... wait... don't tell me I need to climb the tree like this...

Somehow, the noise carried to Celia. She quickly got up, went down the tree, and hopped across the tree’s thick roots to reach the door and open it. The door was cracked. “…Sinclair!” Celia opened it wide and pulled him in, closing the door quickly to make sure no one else saw them. “Hello, hi. I um… didn’t expect you to visit.”

"H-hey... ah. I-I got drunk... I think? I'm sorry... I probably looked stupid..." Sinclair felt shy, and simply presumed he must have made a fool of himself while intoxicated. "B-but I feel like I really wanted... to visit for some reason... It's sort of muddled. I hope your party was to your liking though."

“It was a little… funny, really. Don’t worry.” She removed her mask, revealing flushed cheeks and a shallow grin. “Today was really fun… I kinda wish I could have days like that over and over again — it was nice to watch everyone let loose and party, and receive all of these gifts. Best of all, though, I had time with you. So…” Celia beamed. “… It’s the best birthday i’ve ever had.”