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Cybele was still out searching for Ganymede every night, but the desperation that had been driving her at first had faded into more of a grim routine that didn't have much hope to it. The Order aura at the edge of her senses was almost a welcome distraction from the endless pacing down streets and the heaviness of the worry that sat in her chest.

Then, she turned the corner and saw who it was.

Lysithea.

The feeling of the senshi's hand in her chest was the first thing that flashed into her mind when she saw her there. The memory of Albireo's motionless body on the sidewalk was the second. Cybele inhaled sharply, and gritted her teeth.

It was not until the third second that Cybele saw that she was wearing white.

It probably shouldn't have been a surprise given the way she'd been acting when they'd not met, but Cybele had to blink a few times anyway to make sure that she wasn't seeing things.

"Hello," she said, then, managing a delayed smile. She'd met plenty of purified people. She shouldn't treat this any differently. She shouldn't act shocked, or betrayed. "My name is Cybele, if you don't remember," she said instead, as calmly as possible.

"It's-"

Cybele paused, lips twitching sideways even as something in her face softened a bit. "Not quite all right, but it's not something I'm going to hold against you, especially since you decided to spare me even with all of that Chaos in your system. Also, I believe I punched you in the face, so we can call it even."

Saying that didn't completely ease the tension, but she had her own past that people had been quick to forgive when she'd purified. She could try to do the same.

It was what Ganymede would have wanted.

Speaking of which, her eyes shifted to the ground at her feet.

"No," she said, and the sigh that followed had a month's worth of frustration behind it.

"I've been working with Valhalla to find her. I've been out every night," she said, then added, before she could stop herself, "She's my sister. They're my family. They took me in when I purified, and now," she shook her head. "That's why I've been so on edge."

Something flashed hot in Cybele’s chest. Grief? Anger? She couldn’t name it.

It didn’t matter. It had nothing to do with Lysithea. She’d been desperate, clearly emotionally compromised even from Cybele’s perspective.

“You got out,” she said, although even her acting instincts couldn’t keep her voice from cracking. “I’m glad for you. That was enough for you to worry about.”

It wasn’t a lie. It was what anyone would have said, what Ganymede would have said. A tear was running down Cybele’s face anyway.

“It’s all right,” she said, and that part was a lie, but she said it anyway. “It’s all right. I’ll find her. I’ll bring her home to Valhalla.”

Although that was seeming more and more far-fetched. If she was being kept in Negaspace, she would continue to rot there while Cybele scoured the streets. Maybe she would die. Maybe they’d even find a way to break her Transcendence in the way that Scylla thought was possible.

That was for Cybele and the others to worry about, though, not for someone trying to start a new life.

She wiped at her face.