>"I need something to focus my mind, my attention on. Something that isn't my status, or how far we still have to go."
>"Oh, um, sure! I can do that! Let's see...."
>And so she sings to you, of snowy mountains and lavender fields, of wistful promises and joyful reunions, of heroes and hijinks, feasts and festivals, and even a fairy marching chant.
>"I always liked that one," she says. "It's fun to sing."
>Though her voice may not be the most melodious you've ever heard, there is an earnestness to it, each note crisp and sharp and full of spirit - perhaps a little too full, in fact. After all the quiet, the sudden chorus of sound feels a little assaulting, but either you grow accustomed to it quickly or Kyouko dials back the volume upon noticing your expression - you're honestly not coherant enough to know which. And just what kind of lung capacity does she
have, anyway, to never miss a note even while hiking uphill? But it's... nice. Something still cheerful in this blackened world, something to hold onto.
>And so you let your consciousness drift upon the melody, trailing one foot after another in Kyouko's shadow. Hours may have passed, but you can no longer distinguish between them. There is only the sound of her voice and the endless wilderness beneath your feet.
>At some point, you must have stopped. You can feel Kyouko helping you down to bed beneath a rocky canopy. She smiles, or at least you can imagine her smile beneath that impenetrable curtain of grey.
>"Goodnight, Nazrin."
