Theodore watches the world repeat, and it is the only thing that is certain.
His master never says as much, but Elizabeth and Margaret tell him that this has happened before, in different times and places. As humans define time, at any rate—but that is when a greater, higher superior was still willing to interfere directly with the world, and that one's attention is currently elsewhere.
At least, Theodore thinks it is. There are many different worlds, but there is only one Velvet Room, regardless of the form it takes. That singularity occasionally makes it difficult to extend his attention beyond that which is required of him, despite being an avatar of power, despite knowing that which has come before and that which will come after, despite wondering what his master is going to do when the human years pass and another calamity is upon the planet they call the Earth.
His master's eyes slide over to him. Theodore coughs, embarrassed. It is not his place to worry for his master. His master will take care of his own business when it is needed, and no sooner.
Still—she's in here again, the girl with the crimson eyes, smiling even for him and pretending that nobody in the room can see the turmoil brewing underneath the surface. His master shifts, sympathetic. He has always liked this guest greatly. But it would never get in the way of the dictates handed down from on high, no. Master Igor is a consummate professional. Theodore catches himself wishing that he could be more like him as he selects a Jack Frost for Master Minako. He will only reach Master Igor's level by working for it.
No matter how pretty her smile is, even when it's a pale, false thing. He remembers the fullness of it in another time and another life, remembers the feel of it against his skin as she kissed him in an afternoon lit by the dying sun, and he burns.
But he's given that up. Hasn't he?
"Do you require anything else, Master Minako?" he inquires, and the way her eyes flicker screams yes.
"No," she says, and smiles. "Thank you, Theodore. That's all for today."
He guides her to the exit and he does not think about who she is going home to.
She has done this all before and she will do it all again. She will always fall in love, a different person each time, and it will always cut away at him to watch her.
So Theodore doesn't.
Duty is paramount, he hears Margaret say from somewhere beyond the Room, a faint smile on her face. But it is not the only thing. You will understand this yet.
He returns to his place and wonders how Elizabeth is doing. She's still searching for her lost boy, searching for the answer to free him from his lonely place at the top of a cold tower for all eternity, with Death alone for company, and he wishes her well.
She had the strength to leave, after all, despite the forbidden nature of her actions. Just because Minato Arisato cannot be saved—
No. Theodore shakes his head, returns to re-indexing the Persona compendium for the fifth time. That is not a truth that is set in stone, no matter the certainty possessed by Death. Master Minako herself, her very existence, is proof of that—and by extension, so is his existence. He exists for her alone, because it had pleased the master to indulge her vision, and if the two of them can exist, what else? What more can change between the Sea and the waking world?
This is the crux of it: they have not yet come to a world where Death did not take either twin at the outset. Every other possibility—but not that, no, not yet.
He will not speak an unformed theory, avatar of power though he might be. But as the cycle repeats itself, just as Minato had once returned to Elizabeth with dull eyes and a thin smile, just as Minako comes to fuse Personas with flint in her gaze and dogged determination in her step, he thinks that the end is not here. Not yet.
Nyx's coming cannot change that. She returns too many times to ever really be considered an end.
It is a matter of waiting, and he is ageless. He has time. Infinite amounts of it.
But Master Minako is human, and for them, the only certainty is death. They are given to hastiness in all matters, and who can blame them? They do not know if they will be there in the morning.
How fitting, he thinks, and considers the slow deterioration of her smile.
If only he could encourage her.