from her pale face and her pale skin, a moonlight shined

Mio's grief had the distinct discomfort of a major third down in a minor key, from tonic to submediant - rather, from dominant to mediant, which was what made it so unexpected and jilting-jarring.

Mio was meant to be happy; meant to be fulfilled, striving-for-thriving, safe, happy, loved.

Noah was sure she was, on the last, because it was the first thing he'd determined to be definitely true after Monica and the-City-at-large had expanded the range - the spectrum, the scale - of human emotion Ouroboros were equipped to process and handle.

But, someone could be so loved and still so, so sad.