She fought for this job, you know? Bullied her way right here, with her tools in her hands, and the burning determination to fulfill that which has been left undone. A task which yawns, enormously, across her past. And even if she cannot think of exactly [i]why[/i] this must be done, she knows with certainty that she [i]must[/i] do this. For Dolce. For Vasillia. For the journey.

The song that spills from her lips is slow, contenting, one she happened to hear back at the beginning of [i]everything[/i]. Back when she, oh so briefly, rode with privateers. And she got to hear how they roared their excitement, how they tossed call and response back and forth across their ships, and, most importantly for this moment, how they wove their voices together to sing of the journey home, the sway of waves, the romantic tension of fighting alongside one another, and leaving all your fears, your disappointments, your regrets behind you.

[i]Hold your head high!
Hold your head high!
We are alive!
We are alive![/i]

The brush and the comb are as gentle as that song, but as insistent. These are the weapons with which she carves out Elysium. The drag of the brush through his curls, across his scalp, never tugging or pulling, just giving each one the proper bounce. The flick of the comb, the twist to accentuate those ringlets. They are scented with oils, and in their wake they leave softness, tenderness, and a certain sensitivity of the scalp.

For, say, when Ceronian nails drag up and down. Like this. While the song continues, promising peace and safety and joy among your comrades, your dearest friends, the people who [i]chose[/i] to stand side by side with you.

And you hear that, Dolce?

The whole pack is singing along.

[i]Let it fall, let it go.
Let it fall, let it go.
We are here, and we are now.
We are here, and we are now.[/i]

You carried so much for so long without complaint, once-Captain. You were trapped among enemies, forced to join in the hunt of your beautiful wife. Let it fall. Let it go. Let it fall. Let it go. We are here, and we are now.

[i]All we got is us!
All we got is us!
The people who fight with us,
side by side with us,
we're all on the same ship home,
we're taking the same ship home.[/i]

And one day, Dolce, that [i]will[/i] be true. That's a super Princess promise.