[Her eyes have turned black with no trace of the serene blue-green left. The darkness on her body is tinged with scarlet.]
... It can't take me. It won't. This song isn't for me. It sings for others. I hear more clearly, I hear it for what it is.
[When the Flower is at the forefront, her speech mirror's Vincent's, vague and cryptic.]
[In the distance outside of the city where it's mostly a frozen hellscape, something else is whipping up a storm. Snow flies everywhere in a wave of white as an ominous crowd marches its way toward the city and consequently towards the bridge they're standing on.]
Them. Pitiful. They play to its tune. But they never rest...
no subject
[Her eyes have turned black with no trace of the serene blue-green left. The darkness on her body is tinged with scarlet.]
... It can't take me. It won't. This song isn't for me. It sings for others. I hear more clearly, I hear it for what it is.
[When the Flower is at the forefront, her speech mirror's Vincent's, vague and cryptic.]
[In the distance outside of the city where it's mostly a frozen hellscape, something else is whipping up a storm. Snow flies everywhere in a wave of white as an ominous crowd marches its way toward the city and consequently towards the bridge they're standing on.]
Them. Pitiful. They play to its tune. But they never rest...
... Where shall we go?