Papers are strewn on her bed along with the pictures. With delicate care, she sifts through them, biting at her lower lip.
Life's most precious moments can't be caught on paper, pictures are worth a thousand words, memories are the most precious gift of all.
With a careless gesture, she brushes her hair from her eyes.
But it's her job to protect the regular people. She's a SeeD.
Selphie picks up a picture and holds it before her, examining each detail with care.
For a long time she sits there, memorizing. It's a precaution.
You can't forget something you see everyday, can you?
Can you?
I am sorry.
Quetzalcoatl's voice rings in her head, and she can only smile fondly. "You're my friend, too," she says it easily because she means it.
He hums and she lets the smile drain from her face, like when you try to cup sea-water in your hands.
With a sound than might be a sigh or might be a laugh, she sets aside the picture and picks up another. But she can't shake the feeling that—no matter how many pictures, no matter how religiously she writes in her diary—
There will be no salvation.