Merle jumped up the half restored building, from one beam or hole to the next. People below yelled into the pale evening air for her to stop, but she ignored them, caring only to reach the top. That's where Van-sama was. She pulled herself up onto the roof of the building where Van-sama was sitting, calmly eating some bread and staring at the Mystic Moon. His tools were set aside for his moment's rest.

He didn't notice the small cat-girl until she had seized his left arm and snuggled in a sitting position next to him. She rested her head against his shoulder and stared up at the blue moon with him.

"How's she doing?"

Van smiled and gulped down a hunk of bread. "She's fine." Merle looked away from Hitomi's home and stared down at the tools near her knees, her brows knit a little.

"What about you Van?"

Van's eyes slowly traced the few stars that had come out down to the horizon of the building's roof rim then to Merle's amber hair. He patted down the stray strands that where always a little out of place on her head.

"I'm just glad that Fanelia is going to be okay again, and it's people." Van's tender laugh echoed against the empty evening. It felt as if the world below were as far away as the blue moon above. "It's good to feel comfortable again."

Merle looked up at him, into the expanse of this eyes. She could swear that, within his eyes, galaxies of stars glinted against the grey-blue velvet. Van looked into those loving amethysts glowing at him. He leaned forward a little, then a little more. His lips were not more than an inch away from Merle's before Hitomi's face flashed behind his eyes, searing his heart. He sat straight up suddenly and looked toward the moon again.

Merle sat, still looking up at the subject of her idolatry. A flush of embarrassment and anger rose from her heart to her face. She stood quickly and ran back down the building, wondering if he even noticed her leave.

***

Celena sat on the small white bench under shade of a young tree. Her brother was speaking to Milerna close enough for her to see them, but not close enough to hear what they said. Not that Celena cared, though she could tell by the side long glances that her brother gave her that he thought she did. She watched Milerna as she smiled and fluttered her lashes as Alan told some story with his hand planted on the hilt of his sword. They were both so beautiful. They seemed to glitter in the firelight that served to illuminate the small garden when the sun was on it's way down.

She sighed and looked down at her tiny, gloved hands in her lap. She clenched her right fist slowly, watching the white fabric crease and fold. It all seemed so wrong. The dress, the gloves, the tiny little red shoes, the layers and layers of itchy undergarments. The damn corset. She sighed. When her brother had first given her those little shoes she had wondered how she was supposed to walk in them without breaking them in half, but somehow, when she walked the stayed together. All of this new attire was very...pretty...but when she got to her room at night she was very glad to throw it all in a heap on her floor for the maid to gather up later.

Etiquette said that she should appreciate all that her brother had done, but her mind said that he should let her wear what she wanted to wear.

Her brother tapped her shoulder, disturbing her thoughts. She turned her head so fast to look up at him that her carefully pinned hair came out of place, falling into her sky blue eyes.

"It's getting late, little sister." He said quietly with a smile on his face that meant he was still thinking about Milerna.

Celena nodded and stood slowly, rearranged the accursed skirts, and took her honored brother's arm as he led her to her room.

***

Dryden looked toward his empty bed with a sigh. He cursed quietly to himself as he slipped out of his layers of daytime clothing and into his night shirt. He pulled a book from his small book case and set it down on his desk. He looked at the loose papers, empty ink bottles and other assorted items that littered the surface of his desk and reminded himself that he needed to clean it someday.

He smirked to himself. "Someday seems to be a day that never comes."

He pulled back the wooden chair. It scrapped across the floor. It seemed like thunder in the endless silence of the small room. He sat opened the book.

"Seems like there should be better things for me to do before I sleep than read..."