Chapter Seven, Wandering in Sorrow

[Morathor]

"They'd make enough noise that we'd know. And we could rush to their aid."

[Meirou]

"I'm NOT barring the door."

[Morathor]

"Alright... please don't get angry..."
...I am never. Ever. Gonna get laid.
And that's perfectly fine.
But--
No, that's fine.

[Meirou]

She shook her head, smiled, and shook her head again, "I"m not angry."

[Morathor]

"That's good... thank you... I don't... want you to be angry at me..." He kissed her gently. "...I'm going to go get my flute, okay?"

[Meirou]

"I'm not going to get angry with you and, are you going to get lost again?"

[Morathor]

"No," he called as he headed back up the stairs. When he returned he was carrying his cracked flute. He took Takara by the wrist, pulled her over to some sort of seat, and sat her down on his lap. He kissed her on the cheek, then began to softly play the carefree opening strains of Wind into her ear.

[Meirou]

Takara grinned slightly and yanked one of the smaller children into her lap, bwaha, Kara sammich.
"Cultivate your hunger before you idealize....Motivate your anger to make them all realize....Climbing the mountain, never coming down....Break into the contents, never falling down....My knee is still shaking, like I was twelve...Sneaking out of the classroom, by the back door...A man railed at me twice though, but I didn't care...Waiting is wasting for people like me....Don't try to live so wise...Don't cry 'cause you're so right...Don't dry with fakes or fears...'Cause you will hate yourself in the end....."