( an easy thing to brush off as coincidence. but even with all the corners of the world she's occupied, such flares of magnificent idealism are rarer still. while all other examples have washed away with her indifference, there's the few she's watched in her more recent lifetimes. it's hard not to make the association even if that particular librarian would never converse with her with such a cadence. that level of familiarity from the red is reserved for those she'd rather be around, and she's aware she's not among that circle.

but she's seen it in dreams in restless slumber, along with all the others. the indomitable, legendary red mist. she does wonder if they've met. )

She sounds wise.

( placid as she was, there's now something implacable in her smile. irony, maybe. )

You believe yourself justice incarnate? Judge, jury, executioner? ( so does the head, funnily enough - and by extension, her, once upon a time. ) I'd rather hear more, as what I think of it now matters little. I'm nothing more than an observer with an ear for stories, idling about with others who'd spare her the time.