carved in jade

M is forever, just like all the Consuls and then again not so. Eunie hadn't known them to be wrinkled and overwrought, of course, but if she imagines back to the time when all they were was red helms and distorted voices, always irritatingly talkative or maddeningly close-mouthed, she can see how plainly any Moebius born of Mio would stand apart.

All is Mio, Mio, Mio's distress and fervor, and Eunie wants to scream except that she doesn't, because for once, sparking off about it won't change anything. They've got to be hope, just like Mio said. Strong, and solid.