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The rift was one of the only places in the universe that Alkaid could hide within both physically and metaphysically. Her aura blended in almost seamlessly with the chaos from which she had been created and when she had the opportunity to use it to her advantage, she did. It was nice to know she was, for once, not the center of attention.

There were other reasons that she trailed silently behind the General walking with such purpose through Metallia's domain. Their history, for one, but also the fact that she had not laid eyes upon in him a very long time. He seemed tired, a concept that seemed also foreign to her now. She did remember it well, staring out at her from eyes unwilling to yield, in a face so much younger than the one that he bore now.

Had so much time really passed? Had things changed so much?

Her own bright eyes dropped to the back of her hand and spiderweb of cracks that was etched across her hardened flesh.

Yes, she supposed it had.

She slipped out of the shadows that she had taken post in and closed some of the distance that separated their bodies. She didn't want to surprise him, but he was obviously unfocused, so she made a point of letting her heels thud against the hard packed earth a little louder than she would have normally liked.

"Are you making a sacrifice, Lab?"

Alkaid's bright eyes swept over him as he turned to face her, taking in the sight of him in full now that they stood as close to face-to-face as she dared. The fidgeting was not missed but she had to wonder why the nervous ticks presented - nerves, or discomfort? She realized that she didn't know him well enough anymore to make a guess. She hadn't really taken the time to include him, or anyone, in her life for a long, long time.

"I was here before you ever walked in." Her shoulders rolled in a shrug, dismissing the tension that hung between them like she didn't feel it at all. She did, but it didn't have as much impact as it would have, once. "I have business to attend to here, but you surprised me and surprises are always a curiosity."

Her gaze lifted from his, trailing over the tuft of pink hair and the way he twined his fingers through it. A memory flashed through her, stark and sudden, as she recalled the way it had stood out so brightly against her own pale skin. She remembered the feel of it between her fingers as they kissed, the way it tickled the soft flesh of her neck. Her eyes dropped back to his, with a face unchanged by the bits of residual emotion he still managed to bring with him.

"I don't really care if you've got your s**t together, apart from a minor concern that recklessness is dangerous. I wouldn't like to see you die."

Alkaid's lips pursed at his snide remark, though she couldn't hold it against him. There was no awe when he looked at her, not like Amphitrite, nor was there the subtle curiosity of Hver. There was only a boy staring at the girl that had broken his heart, and not even knowing if she was that girl at all.

"Do you think so lowly of me because of what I am, or because of who I am?" Her words were as blunt as his had been, but she seemed genuinely curious with less intention to insult him. Truthfully, she took a certain mix of joy and discomfort from seeing him. He was a reminder of someone she used to be and that girl was so, so easy to forget. She'd once thought that was a blessing but she wasn't so sure sometimes.

"I'd miss you, in my own way. I do care about things, just not the way that you would, or the others." She waved a hand dismissively in the direction of the Rift's entrance, indicating all the other agents that were outside of the hellish realm. He didn't seem as if he wanted to know more about what she thought of herself, or what she missed, and so she let her words end at that. If he asked, he might be one of the only people in the world she'd bother explaining her thoughts to. On some level, she knew she owed him.

Instead she turned and looked past the tree, in a direction she knew held her true desires. There was nothing to see of it from where they stood, but she stared like she could see the tower anyway.

"I'm trying to fix something that will finally make others capable of joining me, but it's more difficult than I expected. I spend a lot of time here." Her eyes slid sideways to look at him. "Though I could ask you the same thing."

"That's fair."

Her eyes watched the expression on his face, trying to judge how he felt about being forgotten. It was hard. She'd spent so long studying the human reaction to so many things, but there was no one else she could study for this. How did one tell how someone felt when faced with heartache unless the reason was staring them in the face?

"I would, at first," her eyes left his and shifted up to the youma that was staring at her. She knew some of them were more than capable of human thought, even speech, if they felt like interjecting. A lot of them didn't care enough, having been left here to their own devices so long. They were similar, in a way, but so very, very different at the same time. "And then, after you had been gone for a while, I would forget, and whatever was left of me that was tied down by your memory would be lost."

She laughed then, a chilling bitter sound, and shut her eyes against the youma and the all too stark reminder that she would soon be not much better than a beast if she didn't take Hver's advice. The problem was that she was at war with wanting to retain some piece of herself - she knew she'd be a better soldier if none of that were there to hold her back.

"I'll not be much more than he is, soon."

When her eyes reopened, she seemed calmer, as if she had reeled herself back from some edge of panic. It was easy to shove it all down into the endless subspace that existed in her mind. He was something to focus on, at least while he was here.

"That is a peculiar thing to be searching for, Labyrinth." Honest curiosity and confusion sparked in her eyes and she crossed the distance between them, closing it a fraction, until she stood beneath the splayed branches of the old tree. Not close enough to touch him, but enough that the conversation seemed more personal. Her hands cross over her exposed abdomen, just over her ribs and her head tilted. It was a more human posture than before, suggesting that something about him was, in fact, influential.

She wasn't entirely sure why, but something about the way he spoke those words made her eyes drop to the ground between their feet. If she'd been human, she might have blushed, but as an ascendant she only narrowed her eyes at nothing in her confusion.

Alkaid couldn't deny that his presence calmed her in a way that felt almost unnatural to her, but even that bittersweet discomfort was something she hadn't felt in a long time. She had loved him once and even if she wasn't fool enough to think that she could ever love something in the same way again, with the same passion she once had, she wouldn't be able to entirely eradicate the aftershocks of that feeling as long as he existed. As long as Labyrinthite lived, so did a part of Alkaid.

"I don't know why I didn't realize it," she said with a laugh, letting her eyes shut again as her head hung, "but you already do. I don't know if that's something I need or something I should be wary of. Trying to retain my humanity is selfish when losing it is inevitable." Her eyes opened and she glanced back up at his, at bright irises only shades different than her own. As the distance between them was closed by him somewhat, one pale, cracked hand reached up and touched lightly on the curve of his cheekbone. Just the tips of her fingers landed, rough against his softer flesh.

"I don't want to be like them, not truly, but that makes us both fools that can't let go." She studied the place where her fingers touched his skin, noting the stark difference between them. "I can't be Kaia, so much of me is gone that she's already as good as dead."

The fingers on his cheek slowly slipped away until her arm fell to hang at her side. Here she was thinking that she was alone in her fight to retain some portion of herself and he was fighting the same battle. Perhaps the way they were both slipping was different, one more stark than the other, one more wrapped up in a conscience, but she had to admit that he did seem.. different.

"I suppose that we did, you're right." She laughed, short and soft, beneath her breath and let her gaze drift up to the youma that had been standing guard over their heads this entire time. She doubted that her humanity would truly strengthen her but it seemed, especially as of late, that she was learning more about her place in the Negaverse. She still had comrades, she still had enemies, and if she were a monster without any feeling at all, would she be much better than the multi-eyed bird above them?

Would Metallia strip her free will away and give her over to a soldier to command if she lost her ability to reason? If maintaining her humanity meant maintaining her freedom to do as she pleased, perhaps there was some need to remember who she was, after all.

Without dropping her eyes from the creature that seemed content to stare right back, she addressed him again.

"Would you have done it differently, Labyrinth? Any of it?"

Despite her part in everything, there was a deep rooted pleasure in hearing someone else admit that they wouldn't change their choice to follow Metallia even if they could. At times she felt like was one of the few that knew devotion so entirely that she would give up anything she owned to continue the cause, but just because she wore her medals on her skin didn't mean that others were any less committed. Looking at the man that had once, a long time ago, been her whole world, she knew that she had given him up and he had become something better in the bitter wake of it.

As for herself?

"I wouldn't change all of it, but.."

She paused as she turned her gaze back up to the youma lingering overhead, trying to think of how best to put the words without opening up a wound for him that was likely barely healed. A sigh fluttered out of her lips before she started again, but she set her eyes on his, so that he would know she meant what she was about to say.

"I would leave you both, before this." Her hands reached up to cup over the fractured space above her starseed, glowing dully with the soft orange pulse of her life beneath the chasms. There was no doubt that by this, she meant her choice to ascend.

"You were spared a lot of things, in the end." Then, her eyes did falter and the first sign of true discomfort was plain in the way she knit her brows together and turned her head to stare off at nothing in particular. She couldn't keep his gaze as she thought of someone else and, ultimately, the pain she had caused by being too greedy to break off her ties in the beginning. Hindsight was her curse.