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Donning white robes and a ponytail, the Sankta rested her hand on a window at the end of one of OMV Dijiang’s corridors. The view outside was nothing short of breathtaking; nothing in her memories came close to what she saw.
The full extent of the Dijiang, as well as the colossal piece of Protocol-Originium and the surrounding smaller vessels.
“This is… so beautiful,” the pink-haired Sankta whispered.
And of course, the proverbial cherry on top — Talos-II, looming in the background. The pinkette, donning white robes and a ponytail, heard steps from behind and turned to look at a blue-haired Sarkaz wearing a religious garment — she held a tablet in one hand as well as a long silver briefcase in the other.
“Ah— Greetings, Operator…” Xaihi looked down at the screen, skimming through a list of names.
“Carpe Diem,” the Sankta finished.
“Yes, Operator Carpe Diem — R&D has finished the firearm you requested, down to the specifications you wrote down in the form you submitted to us.” Xaihi extended the briefcase to the Sankta, who approached it with visible enthusiasm — Carpe Diem’s enthusiasm, however, didn’t come close to Xaihi’s.
“C-Carpe Diem?” Xaihi questioned in a shy tone while the Sankta herself knelt and placed the briefcase on the ground. She lifted its springs and opened it to see a black sniper rifle with pink decals; bolt-action, allowing her to take back-to-back shots. Beneath the foam were countless additional ammunition cartridges.
“I think I would make a few more decals of my own, and maybe get a cute charm for it, but this is perfect.” Carpe Diem stood up, lifted the briefcase, and smiled at the Sarkaz.
“Beyond the ammunition between the foam, there is also a detachable strap for your rifle.” Xaihi’s fingers lingered a moment on the briefcase’s handle before letting go. “Two souls from Laterano, awakened so close in turning… Forgive me, I did not expect to witness such a thing twice in one lifetime.” She wore a smile that she couldn’t at all hide. Carpe Diem found it quite endearing.
“As for my fellow Rhodes Island colleague, did you manage to triangulate her position?” In a hurried motion, Xaihi slid her finger through the tablet’s screen. “Ah, yes — my calculations place her at Valley IV, UWST’s territory; her last confirmed position was near The Hub.”
Carpe Diem took a step forward and placed her hand on the blue-haired Sarkaz’s shoulder, offering her a smile. “Good, I will be heading for the Drop Pods.” A few more steps created distance between the two — Xaihi raised her hand, as if about to ask Carpe Diem to wait. The Sankta looked over her shoulder, wearing a smile of her own.
“And don’t worry, I didn’t forget about our deal — I will tell you everything I remember about Laterano.”
Within the pod, Carpe Diem recalled her awakening from Rhodes Island — the puzzlement, or rather, the shock, on Doctor Warfarin’s face as she saw Carpe Diem’s face. Carpe Diem exchanged a few words with other Rhodes Islanders about how the creation of Reconveners put a heavy toll on Warfarin’s mental health, and that her mounting exhaustion had been caused by another reconvener who left the Woods not long ago.
Knowing another Reconvener was fresh out of the woods filled Carpe Diem with excitement — yet Rhodes Island’s staff seemed hesitant — but Warfarin herself had the last word.
“Carpe Diem and Lacrimosa should meet.”
Carpe Diem’s train of thought ended as she felt the G’s around her change, looking outside at one of the reinforced windows to see the never-ending blackness give way to sky blue. She felt herself grow heavier as the pod’s thrusters went live to slow the descent.
She remained still until the front door depressurized and opened, revealing a vast green expanse ahead of her — a road beside her leading to a construction site on one end and one huge building that Carpe Diem presumed to be The Hub mentioned by Xaihi.
While she wanted to exchange words with the Talosians, Carpe Diem couldn’t help but run freely through the place. Leaping over vehicles, running up hills and dropping down with a gymnast’s grace, seeing the vast landscape and construction sites through her scope.
The large Originium Clusters didn’t scare her, not as much as she had imagined — both Doctor Warfarin and the Sarkaz Xaihi that had attended to her at Dijiang had warned her that the Originium in Talos-II was mostly harmless. Even still, Carpe Diem brought her hand to her left shoulder.
A flicker of Phantom Pain that was quickly dismissed once Carpe Diem heard a cry for help — the Sankta dashed towards the origin of the sound and spotted a group of Landbreakers cornering workers tending to a power plant.
The Sankta inhaled and knelt — between heartbeats, she had her sights on a brute wearing gauntlets, about to throw his fist at a poor Forte worker. In a flash, Carpe Diem had pulled the trigger for a clean shot.
The Landbreaker stopped in place, emitting no grunt or profanity, and then collapsed to the ground — while his companions tried to understand the situation, the pinkette already had her eyes on them.
A heartbeat, then a trigger pull, a heartbeat, and another trigger pull — that repeated itself until all of them lay motionless on the floor. The Sankta walked up to exchange words with the workers, who couldn’t stop thanking her for saving them.
“Hey, I just saw people in need of help and did what I could—” A pause. Carpe Diem looked to the side, hearing a sorrowful tune coming from a nearby hill.
“That place… Who is there?” she asked with wide-open eyes.
An electrician, a Vulpo, adjusted her cap. “A Sankta Lady like you has been up there for days with her big violin, playing that same sad music and stopping midway through,” she explained, only for the pinkette to adjust the strap over her shoulders, looking toward the hill.
“That melody… It doesn’t come from a violin… That’s the sound of a cello…”
As these words escaped her, Carpe Diem dashed towards the hill near Endfield’s Main AIC — passing through the extensive industrial machinery, acknowledging only the joy she felt in running on her own two feet.
However, as Carpe Diem approached the short-haired Sankta, she noticed an LB leaving a few bushes with a spiked club in hand, walking towards Lacrimosa — she stopped in place, pulling the rifle’s strap over her shoulders in a swift motion; yet the LB was getting closer and closer to the noirette, who seemed too lost in thought to notice, seemingly on the verge of playing again.
Dammit! Carpe Diem thought as she began to raise her rifle. Yet, in a movement even swifter than her own — Lacrimosa drew the bow across the sable cello’s strings, causing lightning to descend directly at the Landbreaker.
“It is rude for the audience to interrupt,” she said in a calm voice. She turned back to look at the pink-haired woman — Lacrimosa’s eyes widened, but soon she just smiled.
“Sankta, like me.” The short-haired musician whispered when Carpe Diem was closer. “Lacrimosa, right? How did you…” Carpe Diem walked up beside the noirette, standing beside her, even if at a respectable distance.
“I sensed two tunes, yours and his; yours bore no malice and was…” She paused, unable to put that melody into words. “His were an uncoordinated sabbath of makeshift instruments — I couldn’t bear it, so I intercepted it.”
Carpe Diem offered the noirette a welcoming smile — Lacrimosa was either a woman of few words or someone incredibly shy. “When I heard there was another Sankta Reconvener, I had to rush to meet them,” she said in a heartwarming tone, walking up to stand on the cellist’s side. Lacrimosa, on the other hand, set her eyes on the gas giant looming on the horizon before taking a step to the side, increasing the distance between the two.
The pinkette’s coral gaze inspected her colleague’s attire — something reminiscent of Xaihi’s nun attire; however, it lacked the signature headpiece. Carpe Diem smiled, an amused thought crossing her mind, imagining the noirette as a “part-time nun, part-time diva.”
“Caster Operator, Carpe Diem,” she introduced herself, leaning forward as if to catch Lacrimosa’s attention, who, in turn, threw a side glance to Carpe Diem — an encounter of coral and obsidian — a century later, light-years away.
“Supporter Operator, Lacrimosa. It is a pleasure to meet you—” Her words died in her throat, tongue caught on the shape of an L she could not quite release. The noirette took a deep breath, her diamond-shaped gaze returning to the gas giant ahead. “It is a pleasure, Carpe Diem.”
However small Carpe Diem’s glimpse of Lacrimosa’s diamond-shaped hues was, it was enough to have the markswoman lost in the woman’s eyes — something about her pale complexion, the artistic-looking eyelashes, and those eyes that were as beautiful as the stars above. Carpe Diem was momentarily stunned, brought back to reality once she had a side view of the cello.
“I-I could hear you playing from a distance,” the sniper stuttered, attempting to break the ice between them. “What is the name of that song? It is really sad…”
Lacrimosa tightened her grip on the cello and took a deep breath. “That was my Teacher’s last composition, one she couldn’t finish since Oripathy claimed her last breath before she could write its last note.”
Upon hearing her words, Carpe Diem stopped in place — eyes slightly widened. She tried raising her hand to pat Lacrimosa on the shoulder, perhaps, but stopped herself soon enough, lowering her hand and offering the noirette a moment of silence.
“What kind of person was your teacher? If you tell me about them, then they will be able to live not only in your memory, but in mine as well,” the pinkette said in a comforting tone.
Lacrimosa’s gaze went downward, lips pursed into a thin line — hesitation — she couldn’t speak of her so easily, but the one who asked was also a Reconvener; one that stirred a strange sense of familiarity in her.
“Like me, my Teacher was also a Rhodes Island Operator… Albeit much more than that.” She took a deep breath and remained silent for a few moments. “Musician, Teacher, Sister, Spouse and Mother — that’s who my Teacher, Virtuosa, was,” she said with a sorrowful and exasperated voice, causing Carpe Diem to almost regret asking the question.
Her coral gaze then moved downwards to her own legs — lifting one, moving the other to the side and feeling surprised at her own balance. “I look at her memories when I start feeling lost; there is almost something there that puts me on the right track, in a sense… She is like an older sister to me.”
Momentarily, the markswoman’s breath caught — Carpe Diem’s nigh-photographic memory caught flashes of the night sky woven into long, silky strands. She shook off those thoughts.
“Lacrimosa, d-do you remember anything about your teacher’s spouse or husband?” the pinkette asked, awkwardly. The noirette looked at Carpe Diem, her obsidian gaze lingering longer than it should have. “She had a spouse… I remember fragments of… something she never wanted to forget,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
After swallowing hard, Lacrimosa settled her eyes on the woman in front of her — tears sliding down her cheeks. “Coral eyes, white dress, petals falling over them… Pink.” That last word made Lacrimosa’s quiet sobbing stop for an unguarded laugh. Carpe Diem stopped in place, and tears formed on her coral hues — pink lips curled into a smile as she started blinking the tears away, causing them to trail down her cheeks.
“That day, my sister was held by someone whose hair was a long veil, as beautiful as the night sky…” Carpe Diem’s smile widened. Her mouth opened wide as more and more tears streamed down her cheeks.
They may have been happy tears, but Lacrimosa couldn’t bear to see a woman with those eyes cry — she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around Carpe Diem as if she had known that woman for a lifetime.
“Lem!” she exclaimed from the bottom of her heart, embracing the pinkette so impossibly tight while resting her chin on Carpe Diem’s shoulder.
A myriad of memories reached the two — seclusion from a group, a collapsing old monastery, the shared sight of one’s beloved wounded, and the reminder of their shared mortality. Sadness washed over Carpe Diem, knowing that Lemuen had departed first, while Lacrimosa was drowned in a loneliness that wasn’t entirely hers.
An inherited mission passed from Terra to the Originium Woods, and now it belonged to her — to finish her Teacher’s Requiem for her beloved. The sorrow of that piece had a name, and it was Lemuen.
“Teacher, I—” The words died in Lacrimosa’s throat as Carpe Diem cupped her cheeks — obsidian and coral — and leaned in to connect their lips.
Deep, chaste, passionate; exceptionally wet due to their shared tears. Clumsy and embellished by the occasional sobbing — unlike their first, who embodied all of the Cardinal’s yearnings. Lacrimosa let go of her Cello to hold Carpe Diem’s waist — her Cello dropping down, its tuning peg pulling Carpe Diem’s rifle from its strap until Cello & Sniper fell right next to each other.
The kiss ended, and the two remained still, the exchange of gazes lingering as though it were something they depended on. Soon, Carpe Diem looked to the side, the gas giant looming behind them.
“Do you still think you need to finish your Teacher’s last piece?” Carpe Diem asked. Lacrimosa shook her head and looked at Carpe Diem with an unbearably soft smile. “I don’t think she would want it to burden me when I’ve found you,” Lacrimosa answered with a soft voice.
Carpe Diem let out a huff of a laugh. “Sis would’ve said the same…” A pause, Lacrimosa turning to admire the celestial body on the horizon.
“I’ve read the names of a lot of cities at Dijiang… Talos-II seems like a huge place, you know?” Carpe Diem’s voice was unbelievably cheeky.
“Oh, I know… We are going to visit each and every one of them together, right?” Lacrimosa pressed her lips to Carpe Diem’s temple. “Would you like to visit Wuling City? I wonder how much Yanese food has changed from memory.”