[Raise the sun. No matter what Fang and Vanille had explained about Pulse and its sun and the stars, that still makes her think of the fal'Cie. Her lips press into a thin line as she looks back at the tree. What's the cost of this, she wonders. Her dragonfly buzzes at the tension in her shoulders--you idiot outsider stop freaking out already--but keeps on braiding parts of her hair without slowing.]
no subject
Right. [frown.] Of course it's not.