[se] echoes of ancients

Soleil

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

Soleil feels so at home in her older body and mind that she often forgets people remember her as a young girl, but Deimos takes it in stride so readily that she doesn't even remember. To her, the transition was as natural as breathing. Why make a big deal out of it?

Plonking down in one of his porch chairs, she pulls her legs up to cross them on the cushion, incapable of ever sitting correctly. "I am! I just got back from visiting Torchline and then Stormbreak. They're so different from Halo!" It's clear by her gushing that she was impressed by both, but she softens moments later, amber eyes flicking out over the light snowfall beyond his porch. "But I'm glad to be home." Even if only for a short time.

Grief is strange to Soleil, who had experienced death once before arriving in a new body with new senses and abilities courtesy of The Voice. She hadn't lost anyone in the war, but she has a rather open-minded acceptance of loss given how much of it she has already experienced. Therefore, the topic of lanterns doesn't cause her to sober or sour. "I have two lanterns for my moms at home. I need to decorate them for the festival, but I haven't made it home yet actually." Still fresh off the skyboat and easily distracted by old friendly faces. "Would you like some help? You have a lot on your hands." At the very least she can help clean and polish them.

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