Empty corridors, shadows stretching on the floor from the morning sunlight, the muffled sound of her feet on the carpet, and of course, the ever-present, constant hum of the airship in the background.

Yara's almost gotten used to it, at this point.

She knocks, knuckles brushing against smooth dark wood – once, twice, thrice. Frowns when there's no response, then opens the door a crack to peer in.

Empty.

Still, this early in the morning, where could she have gone –

Yara pauses.

Is that... music?

She hesitates, then starts down the hallway. If she remembers correctly, the piano is in the library – mostly because there really isn't anywhere else on the airship that has a door big enough for said piano to be moved in, though initially, she had wondered why they had even bothered to do so. A piano, of all things, wasn't expected to be high on their priority list, especially since they had been in a rush.

The door to the library is already open – she pushes it open a little further, pauses again.

"Huh," she muses to herself quietly.

Well, she's gotten her answer now, she supposes.

Sunlight, streaming in through floor to ceiling windows, heavy, dark purple drapes, a dark green carpeted floor and mahogany oak shelves lined with an assortment of thick books, their covers gilded with gold lettering.

A grand piano, positioned in the center of it all.

And a girl – grey eyes unfocused, sitting in a wheelchair, the sleeves of her dress brushing against her wrists as her pale fingers fly over the keys and a content smile on her face.

The music stops abruptly as she looks up, lifting her fingers off the piano keys. "Ah... Miss Yara, is that you?"

Yara pauses, momentarily surprised, then collects herself and straightens up. "Yes, Lady Raine. You... knew it was me?"

"It's your footsteps. They're quieter than everyone else's, so..."

"Ah. I see."

An awkward pause – this might just be the most they've talked since first meeting, considering Yara had been run through on how to handle her new job more than actually doing said job these past few days. It could even be said that this is their first actual meeting.

It's Raine who breaks the silence first. "Sorry – if you had trouble finding me, I mean. And for playing this early in the morning. My sleep schedule tends to be quite erratic these days, and once I woke up, I couldn't go back to sleep, so... ah, anyway, I should probably –" she reaches over to close the piano cover.

"You don't need to stop playing," Yara says.

She pauses, blinks. "Really? I thought it might be disturbing people, since..."

"No – most of the servants are already up by this point anyway, so you wouldn't be bothering anyone."

"Ah... but won't it be boring for you to just stand there the entire time?"

Yara shrugs, though she knows she can't see her. "That isn't a problem. It's my job."

She hesitates, then nods, before placing her fingers back onto the keys and picking up where she left off. Within the space of a few seconds, music fills the air once again.

The song is unfamiliar – one Yara has never heard before, the notes coming clear and fast – and yet, despite never having heard it before, she can tell this much: Raine is good at this. Extremely so.

"Well... what did you think?" Raine asks nervously as the song ends. "Was it alright?"

"It was... very nice. You're good at this – how long have you been playing?"

"A while," she says, ducking her head in embarrassment, face slightly red. "I still have a long way to go, but I'm glad to hear that, though," she adds with a smile, "since I wrote this one myself. Ah – by the way, do you like music, Miss Yara?"

Do you like music?

She pauses, wondering how she's supposed to answer this question, and her mind strays to her Starsong once again. "I don't know," she finally admits. "I suppose I've never really thought about it before."

"I see," Raine says softly. "I really love music, though!" she brightens. "Being the way I am, there's lots of things I'm unable to do, so... playing the piano gives me a sort of freedom, I suppose, since it's one of the only things I can do. Although it is kind of a useless skill," she adds, smile turning a bit sheepish.

"I don't think it is," Yara replies. "Especially if it's something you love doing."

"Yeah... I suppose that's true as well. Music is something really precious to me – in fact, it is me, in a sense. Like..." she drums her fingers along the edge of the piano, "the song of my soul, or something." She gives another sheepish smile. "I'm just rambling now, aren't I? Sorry. All this must sound very silly."

The song of a person's soul, huh...

"No, not really," Yara says, shaking her head. "It doesn't sound silly. Not in the least."

Another pause.

"Ah, then... Miss Yara, would you like to learn it? How to play the piano, I mean," Raine blurts out suddenly. "Not that I'm a really great teacher, or anything – just, you know. So you can decide for yourself. Whether you like music, I mean."

Yara opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, wondering when the conversation had taken such a turn (as, in the back of her mind, she hears Tam snicker at her for acting like a fish).

She wonders, vaguely, if Raine is trying to make friends.

She shakes her head, reminds herself: she's on a mission. She needs to do her job, her duty. And that means not getting attached, especially since this girl in front of her is, essentially, the reason for most of Kaya's suffering – no matter how indirectly. And that means she should reject her offer.

"I – sorry, that was out of line," Raine mumbles, deflating, and Yara starts, realizing that she's taken too long to answer.

Well. Now she feels bad.

She sighs.

"If you would like to, then I'm alright with it."

Raine perks up almost instantly. "Really?"

"If it's what you want."

She wonders whether this deviates from her mission, and decides that it probably does.

But for once, she finds she doesn't care that much.

-----------------------

"Look at all the pretties!"

"Please don't talk about swords and knives like they're flowers."

"But they're so shiny!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Kaya watches Chia drag Tam behind her to look at an assortment of weapons – most of which are probably over a hundred years old but still very polished and also very, very sharp – from where she's standing, amused and also slightly worried. "... should I be concerned?" she asks Allioni, standing next to her.

"Nah – it's just Chia being Chia. Though maybe you should be. A little," he says lips quirking up into a slight smile. A pause. "You... do seem worried, though. About other things."

She looks up in surprise. "You noticed?"

"Well, you've seemed really quiet these few days, so..." he shrugs. "I guessed. Is it because of Raine?"

"I – yeah," she deflates, her fingers bunching up the fabric of her skirts, "sort of. It's just – I don't know. I've been thinking. Do I really have the right? To erase the wish... it feels like I would be ripping a choice away from her too."

"Like what you said back on the train."

"Yeah. But it's – more than that, I think. Stars, wishes, Starsongs, all of this -it's not –" she says, quieter this time: "I'm not human. I'm not human, and she is, so – is it really okay? To prioritize my life after hers?"

"Well –" Allioni frowns, puts his hands behind his head, his eyes wandering from exhibit to exhibit depicting the dispute that had happened between Orivia and a neighboring town two centuries ago – back before the entire land had been united under the rule of the Elis monarchy, when every town had been like a small kingdom – and the short but bloody war that had followed after. There's a moment of silence, before he asks, "What is a human anyway?"

She blinks. "Huh?"

"I mean, if you want to be literal about it, that's us, of course. Homo sapiens. All of the biological jargon and whatnot. But if you really think about it, a lot of these things – humanity, the heart and stuff – they're abstract concepts. A lot of people say things like – if you're human, you have a heart, how a heart defines our humanity, so on, but what does it really mean anyway? And I know none of this makes sense and it's really confusing, but my point is – my point is, there is no point. Humans and hearts and all of that can be defined however you want. It just depends on – well, you."

A long, pregnant pause.

"Then – how would you define it?" she asks. "Humanity and hearts and all of that, I mean."

"I think – for me, I think the heart is what makes people human. But not really the heart in a literal sense, like the organ that pumps blood through you. It's more like – well, your core, I guess. The soul or whatever. But anyway, the thing is – Kaya, you have a good heart. You're kind, and you're compassionate, and you don't like to hurt people. You're a good person. And that's what's most important."

"A good person, huh..." she muses.

"Yeah. So, Star or not, biologically human or not, it doesn't matter. Because you're a good person. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise – if they do, I'll punch them."

Her lips twitch. "Not even myself?"

His expression turns serious. "I'll fight you if I have to."

"I'll keep that in mind, then," she laughs. "Though, between the two of us, I'm pretty sure I would win. Can you even throw a proper punch?"

"I mean – I have tried."

"Yes, and then you nearly broke your finger."

"It was that one time!" he protests, and she laughs harder, until a voice interrupts them from behind.

"How sweet," Yara says, tone dripping with sarcasm and a hint of friendly teasing, having once again appeared out of nowhere. The two of them jump. She raises an eyebrow. "Don't look so surprised. I did tell you I would be meeting you in the evening, remember? Or did you lose track of time?"

"... maybe a little," Kaya admits sheepishly.

"Well," Yara sighs. "Suppose we'll just have to make do, then. Right – we have even less time than usual, so we should hurry up. Time to go and question a century-old Star."

-----------------------

The sun is setting as they make their way out of the museum in silence, most of them probably too occupied with their own thoughts to make any attempt at small talk (save for Tam and Yara, who have, for whatever reason, somehow gotten into an argument about something-or-other).

It's kind of ironic in a way, how Tam seems to get along so well with someone who's his complete opposite (Chia) but ends up butting heads with the one he's the most similar with (Yara).

Kaya wonders if they even realize how much they have in common – the way they both attempt to shoulder responsibility and go it alone, their obsession with planning, the way they always seem to make sure they have at least three escape options on hand – then again, considering the way they're both extremely selective in terms of acknowledging certain things like their fears, weaknesses, and anything else they deem as a flaw, they probably don't, she realizes.

Maybe that's why they bottle everything up and always struggle to ask for help.

What about you? A voice in the back of her head seems to say. You're the same too, are you?

Since you haven't told them the real reason you're so scared.

She shakes her head, takes a deep breath of the fresh mountain air and tries to dislodge the nagging thoughts.

You're just nervous, she tells herself.

Before she knows it, her feet hit dirt instead of cobblestones, and they're heading up a winding, narrow dirt path on the side of one of the hills, tall trees blocking most of the evening sunlight that's still left and throwing long shadows on the floor, wild, unkempt bushes growing on the sides and seemingly spilling onto the path itself as if attempting to spread and grow over everything, the path rocky and uneven.

"Seems this place doesn't receive a lot of visitors," Yara remarks.

"Yeah, well, keeping to herself is the smartest move, at any rate," Tam says. "If she goes down to the village too much, some of the older villagers might start recognizing too many similarities between her and her 'mother', so," he shrugs.

"If so, why doesn't she just leave?" Chia wonders, a frown in her voice. "You know – move somewhere else, start a new life with a new identity, try new things – like all of those spy novels and stuff, right?"

"Sentiment?" Allioni suggests. "I mean, she has been living here for about a hundred years... right?"

"Hmm," Yara muses. "Maybe. Or it could even be something else."

"Such as?" Chia asks.

"Maybe... maybe she just doesn't have anywhere to go anymore."

"Oh," Chia says softly, the mood turning solemn.

"It is possible though," Yara says quietly. "I don't know if it was the same for the others, but back when I was still training to be a Guide – I – well, I never gave much thought to it. About what I'd do after. It was always just about my mission, my duty, fate and destiny and the path. I never wondered about what happened to the other Guides either, though their lifespan is still the same as an average Star's – about five-hundred years."

"Ehhhhh? Fi – five hundred?" Chia stammers out. "Does that mean there are other Guides out there still alive besides Anya?"

Yara shakes her head. "I don't know. I only decided to try seeking out Anya first because she's the most recent Guide besides me. As for the others..." she trails off. "Like I said, I don't know. Even a hundred years on your own is a long time. Cut off from your people and with everyone you initially knew when you arrived already long gone... well," she says, falters, continues, "it's possible they might have..."

She doesn't need to finish the sentence, but she doesn't need to.

"We're here," Yara says, stopping abruptly, dried leaves crunching underfoot.

And there's a lot of them, like whoever's living here hasn't bothered to rake the front yard in a long time. Or mow it, considering the number of weeds and how long the grass has grown.

Which is only natural, Kaya supposes.

The house looks old and decrepit, a step away from falling apart – the paint job has long since faded, the roof is sagging in the middle and looking like it's about to collapse, the windows are so dusty it's near-impossible to look inside, and there are cobwebs everywhere – in the rafters, on the porch chair with its moth-eaten seat cushion, in the mailbox slot and covering the doorbell...

"Well... d'you think anybody's home?" Chia pipes up nervously, breaking the strained silence that's already been stretched to the snapping point, tension so heavy in the air you could cut it with a knife.

"Guess we'll just have to try," Tam says.

The sun has set almost completely, the last rays of golden light fading away as it disappears beneath the horizon, and already, the moon and stars are coming out, one by one, bright as diamonds up here where there's next to no light.

Well, Kaya thinks. You've come this far.

In the fading, purple glow of twilight, she takes a deep breath – inhale, exhale, her breath coming out in a frigid white puff of air as a chill begins to set in.

She reaches out and presses the doorbell.