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Millia has been walking through what she assumes to be a town, though it lacked people roaming through it. The remnants of what would be a lively city has been abandoned, reminiscent of the aftermath of Babylon. Leaving it as a dead wasteland, of what could have been a flourishing community. As she continues forward in search of any life, though she can’t even figure out why she’s searching to begin with. The growing sounds of groans and screams cut through the dead air, echoing from the end of a street. Rather than turning back, she keeps on walking, even if whatever’s around that corner would be horrendous. Millia didn’t even know why she kept on walking, just that she needed to. As she went further to the end of it, the more her imagination ran with graphic imagery, of what could be beyond that corner. With every step she takes forward, being paired with the many scenes she left behind from her former life, while the people’s cries become louder.
Just as Millia reaches the edge of it, she stops for a moment, to properly consider if she was truly willing to take the turn and find what horrors lie beyond, or turn back while she still can. With the tolerance she’s gained over the years, it only factors in the more unwilling she is to endure such scenes further. Right as she turns back, a dagger strikes her side, Millia hissing in response to the sudden attack. Followed by the sound of footsteps through the pained screams of civilians, lunging towards her. She recoils from the pain, to see a red blur clutching a dagger, with the being having a dead stare, bolting straight at her. Strangely enough, the figure is unrecognizable, as if they're made of paint rather than flesh. What soon became apparent is her inability to move, as if her own body and mind were separated. Just as it had closed the distance between them, Millia realizes who it was, herself. Rather a younger version of herself, before she gained Angra, before she realized the monster she had become, over the two years she spent to impress the one she once idolized.
Right as she was about to be struck with the embodiment of her life as a monster, she awakens to a dark hollow bedroom, littered with boxes. Frozen still from suddenly waking up, Millia takes a moment to relay what had just happened, even if the only clear image seared in her mind is her own uncanny face. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, let alone something to do with her own past life, yet she has never shown up in them. Knowing that it's unlikely that she’d be able to go back to sleep, she gets up from the bare mattress, flicks the lights on, and continues on with what she's been doing since yesterday. Though, the only thing left to do was actually move all her things, and travel further into the kingdom for her new position as director of the Post-War Administration Bureau.
Most of the things Millia owned didn’t have much sentimental value either. But more things she needed on a daily basis, or the occasional trinket she liked to fill the void of personalizing her apartment. Though recently, she has found out that her former belongings back when she was an assassin were still kept, and that she’ll be receiving them when she arrives at her new apartment. Even if most of it will probably be no use to her now, there are a few things that did hold some value to her, especially from her first life. Before she headed out to check the rest of her things, the sound of faint footsteps could be heard from outside. Cutting through any thought she had before, the instincts that had been carved into her for years resurface. As Millia’s hair instantly forms to a curved blade, with her waiting for her target to come closer for her to strike.
For a good while the steps were infrequent, as it stopped occasionally to mutter something to itself, but were too low and muffled for her to catch anything. Yet as the slow steps finally reached the outside of her door, a dull voice spoke, cutting off her initial attack “If you don’t mind me asking. Why are you up this early?” Millia knew very well who it was behind the door, she scolded herself for not remembering that she had asked him to help her in cleaning her apartment, while she dealt with packing her things. Even if it’s more so to keep an eye on him then leaving him with that old fool, much to the shock of those two.
With a heavy sigh she opens the door, as well as responding curtly. “I would ask the same to you, Zato.” She gets a good look at him properly, seeing that even if it’s been years since he was alive, he hasn’t changed much from the last time she saw him. In vivid memories of her desperately trying to kill him, nor their brief time working alongside their former colleagues. Though his whole personality has taken a complete overhaul, with the once cold and cruel leader of assassins. To a lifeless husk of who he once was previously, barely showing any emotion other than his care for her. Millia still hasn’t figured out how to feel over this detail, yet for the most part prefers this change, even if the last part she mostly glosses over.
Continuing from her remark, Zato responds obediently “Of course, you see I still find myself adjusting to having a normal sleep schedule.” She finds his explanation believable, considering that this has been happening ever since he’s been resurrected, as well his former time in the Guild, yet something felt off about his response. Even if his response was reasonable, that doesn’t explain his odd behavior earlier.
She coldly questions “Are you sure that’s the only thing that caused you to be up this early?” Even though he’s currently the equivalent to a statue in terms of expression, she instead takes note of the slight shift in his posture from her response. It takes a moment for him to face her again “...And oddly enough, a stray dream.” Now that was rare, for him to dream, at least the ones formed in his sleep. Knowing from her own, it’s likely if not more so that they're more repulsive than her own. “I see... Well, I also had a stray dream. To answer your question.” As she said this, he seemed taken by her response. She catches this through his sudden lean towards her, that what she said had clicked something within him. Yet this only brings the thought of having to explain her horrid nightmare, which she isn’t exactly keen on happening. Before Zato could reply, Millia cuts him off “Now with that settled, may I please continue to organize the rest of my things.I would like to be sure everything is in order before leaving.” For a second he seemed even more stunned by her, finally having some sort of experience on him, as his head tilted to the side. Yet reverted back into being lifeless, seeming to accept that there’s no point in countering.
“Very well.” He responds, as he steps aside, while Millia continues to walk past him to finish going through the rest of her belongings, as if nothing has happened. Leaving Zato at the front of her bedroom door as she makes her way to her living room. He seems anchored there as she goes through her remaining belongings, not even bothering to find something to do to be useful. Which is off putting in his recent behavior to constantly gain her approval, well, more accurately in keeping himself by her side in a positive manner.
Leaving her to occasionally glance back at him to catch any sort of idea what he’s thinking. Even if it’s just the same flat expression that he’s been stuck with since returning. It would probably be disturbing to most people with how still he was, but to her, it was infuriating. By the end of it she takes one final peek at him, before deciding to solely focus on her things. Why bother letting herself be so caught up in his behavior, when he obviously isn’t concerned over it. Yet for once she's met with harsh scowl, cutting through his sharp features, before it disappears as he moves towards her.
At that moment, it shifted Millia’s whole viewpoint. It’s worse that she knew she wasn’t meant to see that side of him. That stillness earlier wasn’t it being a byproduct of his return, but a cruel front. She must have not realized her own silence as Zato’s voice cuts in. “Is there anything I can do for you?” She looks up to find him standing in her kitchen, though not facing her direction. Even with her former thoughts lingering, she considered something to busy him with “Perhaps, gather the boxes in the bedroom to the living room.” It seems to have work as he walks into the bedroom, giving her more personal time to think.
Yet even with the added time to discern what his actions could mean, nothing seems to form a proper image. Perhaps it might be for the best she doesn’t ask either, it’s not the best thing bringing up sore subjects. She certainly wasn’t fond of it for the past months. Though Millia couldn’t bring herself to drop it with how she can barely read him, it was maddening. This unusual need to understand him was potent, if unreasonable. Why should she care about this anyways?
For one, it shouldn’t be any concern to her, but some cruel part of her insists that she has to know. And it doesn’t help that it's paired with severed feelings that she’d believed were beyond feeling. At this point, she’ll just harm herself on this subject further, moving on from things like this is her strong suit. For now he’s merely aiding her and she’ll accept it.