INTERLUDE: RINOA

Angelo is hiding under her bed and he won't come out.

Rinoa is kneeling on the floor next to him, holding an arm under the bed and cooing, but the dog doesn't move. There's lots of dust under the bed, Rinoa isn't that up to date on such things as they tend to be pushed aside and forgotten for better things, and it's starting to irritate her arm.

Rinoa pulls her arm out from under the bed, unearthing a legion of dust bunnies in the process. She watches them skitter across the floor in the slight breeze the overhead fan makes and sits up.

(Need to leave soon.)

"I know. But I'm not leaving Angelo here alone."

(You'll miss your flight.)

"Don't worry about it mom!" Rinoa teased, tapping out a beat on her knees. The tapping grew longer as her smile shrunk. "…do you think they'll like me?"

(They liked you before. They'll like you now.)

"But things here aren't the same as they were in the other worlds. We're different people here. This is the farthest we've been from the main plotline in ages!"

(All of the Guardian Forces stay the same. We'll make sure that they remember.) There was a constant background of whistles and trills as she spoke, the slow rise and descent of the harp, and the comforting lap of the sea.

Rinoa nodded. "I guess." She worried her lip between her teeth and fidgeted, every loose thread clinging to her pants was found and pulled. Every stray piece of lint squashed.

(What's wrong?)

"…Do you think they'll like me?"

A sigh like the morning wind grasping the waves. (They've followed you through every parallel reality, they've lived and died by your side. They've avenged you when you fell and killed you when you became too powerful to control yourself.)

(…They'll like you.)

Rinoa nodded. "Right. What was I thinking?" She laughed suddenly, and anxiety extracted its claws from her stomach. "That's how it always worked before, why should this time be any different?"

She pushed herself off of the floor and nodded at the floor-length mirror screwed into the wall next to her door. The girl who smiled back at her was blonde and fey, the two wings that protruded from the side of her head were held regally, fanned out in an invisible air current. Pale arms hovered mere centimeters above her own, as insubstantial as smoke.

She spun on her heel and stared at Angelo, who just decided that it was safe enough to emerge from under the bed. "Angelo, it's time to get in the crate."

Arms akimbo with that ferocious smile on her face that made her look more coy than plotting, Angelo knew she meant business.