inside, a long rose-water pool is shrouded by fine mist
"How may I assist you now, Pneuma?"
Pneuma is crying; her lip trembles, though her swallow distracts and hides it. 81% of the time, this tell is counted as the most precious thing Fi has learned about the Master Blade. 99% of the time, it is difficult to know what to do.
How may I? How can I?
Any spirit is listless without a place to reside. As the bridge falls away, Fi, too, wishes to retreat.
Why can I not follow?
A special spring, within the sword spirit...that is where Pneuma's memory will live.
Always trembling. Always crying.