[Sheila sits at her kitchen table, a cup of coffee and her day's sewing beside her. She's bought furniture with her earnings, and the table seems ancient but well-suited to the kitchen within her apartment in the Towers. It speaks of her ability to settle; Siren's Port is home now, as oddly screwed up as it is, and she's decided that she might do
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He was more than a friend to me.
[Quite a way for him to find out about her past.]
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Losing those closest is always the hardest blow...
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'Tis grievously sorry, when one cannot e'en say goodbye.
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Even saying goodbye is not always for the best.
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Even for the greater good of the world.
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Sometimes, especially then.
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I do rage against helplessness. 'Tis not in my nature to meekly accept.
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Though at times, there's no choice but to accept.
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I try to emulate my grandfather. I hope that I someday become as wise as he.
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Didst thy grandfather have a hand in raising thee?
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...My mother passed of childbed fever, when I was one and ten.
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