"I remember it."

That had been a bad three days.

Three full days of feasting, of singing, of rejoicing. Of watching friend after friend stream past to clap Vasily and Dolce on the back, and talk about how much they'd miss them. Over and over again, the same words, the same thought, expressed a hundred different ways.

[i]You're already dead. You're already dead, and you just haven't found out yet. I'll miss you. I'll sing your song. I'll put flowers on your grave and mourn for you, and try not to think about this being the last time we talk.[/i]

Three days of following Dany through the best wake the Starsong could throw, hearing those words, and knowing that nothing could change her fate. Knowing that all three of them had had options, could choose at any point to leave, to live, to surprise everyone by coming back.  Knowing she couidn't. Knowing if she died out here, it would be somebody else's choice for somebody else's story.

Three days of knowing that she'd never see a sendoff like this, just for her. Who could come? Who would [i]care?[/i]

She shudders, and takes another bite of creamy sweetness.

"Dolce, I."

Maybe two. It's bracing. Keeps her mouth shut. 

"… I'm scared, Dolce."

Somehow, it's worse to have the words said. To have that hang over the conversation.

"Aren't you terrified? Terrified of what it means to cross the Lethe? You go in, but who's going to come out? What's going to happen to Dolce, the Starsong? Even if we make it to the end of the universe and get your wishes, who's going to come back?"