[In this dream, Youko walks donning the armor of a battle-worn warrior, there are red spots of dried blood shed in parts of her clothing, the same she worn against the usurper. She's tired at this point of the day and her appearance reflects this.
She couldn't recognize Sheryl when she spotted her in he stage, except for her voice. The distinctive notes of her song.]
[Sheryl spins around at the sound of her name, her song faltering. She stares wide-eyed at Youko--bloodstained and tired, but looking so much better than Sheryl feels.]
[Youko argues with Sheryl. She knows what is to starve and what is to be alone, crawl in filthy rags with wounds of demons in the heart of the mountains as the rain pours down her head. She recognizes the look in Sheryl's eyes.
She has seen it more than once reflected on the blade of her sword in the past.
She offers her sapphire, trying to reason with her.]
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She couldn't recognize Sheryl when she spotted her in he stage, except for her voice. The distinctive notes of her song.]
Sheryl? Sheryl Nome?
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No! This isn't the Sheryl I am now.
Get out!
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[Youko argues with Sheryl. She knows what is to starve and what is to be alone, crawl in filthy rags with wounds of demons in the heart of the mountains as the rain pours down her head. She recognizes the look in Sheryl's eyes.
She has seen it more than once reflected on the blade of her sword in the past.
She offers her sapphire, trying to reason with her.]
This will help you as it helped me.
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Sheryl draws herself up, hides the fear in her eyes behind her usual haughty gaze.]
Don't offer me charity! I made myself what I am today. I don't need your help.
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