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(instructions on reading the poem are in [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4720389]this post![/url])

[color=seagreen]
Dear, you leave me stunned and smitten, well-hypnotised
As I stand here and look into your amber eyes.
Silky shadows fall down your back, swirling darkly.
Gazing upon such bright beauty, I smile widely.

I'd wait in this place where it's just you and I.
Wait in this place where our love is not just a lie.

I'm so sorry, but no strings can secure me here.
I shall embark on a journey and disappear.
Lone wanderer, that is my share; heavy burden.
My then is lost, my now is you, next uncertain.

I'd wait for you, dear, I would wait forever.
Stay with you where our ties would never be severed.

My heart shatters to tell you that we will part soon.
One last embrace, one stolen glance under the moon.
It's better to have it this way; you'll be set free.
I am unfit for your sweet love; I was carefree.

Don't fret, my darling! The problem is in me.
When the sun comes, you'll be but a lost memory.[/color]

—Daimyon Londe: Parting at Night
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Daimyon shuffled in his chair for a moment as Thomas approached him. Perhaps he had said something wrong? As far as his notes were accurate, his words were the truth. Yet, he was unable to shake an impending sense of dread, further exacerbated by the biomechanic's ominous words. The poet had few records of the green-haired man, precious little aside from what was written in his e-handbook entry. Thus he instinctively judged him on the information readily available: his posture, with hands behind his back and the slightest hunch, and demeanour, with his measured steps and cold, calculated words. If Daimyon was to draw a parallel, he would have likened Thomas to an interrogator. He almost felt tied to his seat—only released when the attention shifted to a new arrival.

Said arrival was Denis, Denis Orlov, another name Daimyon only knew from the e-handbook. The poet recalled what he had read about him in his head—Infinite Spy, age 17, Russian—and felt relieved. His daily memory still held, at least, even after being put to the test numerous times. Refocusing on the current scene, he watched as Thomas handed a white-haired, crimson-eyed Infinite—Faith Lambert, Infinite Matchmaker, age 27, went his quick mental recall—a thick and dusty book, compelling her to read an excerpt. His curiosity piqued, Daimyon listened intently, but much to his dismay, the topic turned out to be something utterly unfamiliar to him. This resulted in a few phrases sounding especially threatening to the laic: [i]explosive properties, non-freezing dynamites.[/i] He connected the dots soon enough and realised that the substance in the vial that accompanied the book had to be [i]dinitroglycerin[/i], a substance used to create explosives. The implication was clear, but the escalation seemed even more imminent as Faith drew a blade and accused Thomas of murderous intentions.

Daimyon's whole body tensed. The vault creature smashing against the wall of its cell almost made him jump out of the chair. [i]This was a living nightmare,[/i] he thought. Only such a horrible dream can be so absurd. Jezebel's out-of-place snickering did nothing to assuage his fears, and though she did not believe the situation to be as grave as Faith did, her explanation set off different alarms in the poet. Did Thomas truly want to enter Marianne's room so much that he was willing to blow up the door? What could he have sought after there? The poet had already been there. He believed that the only valuable item was her letter, in which the late Infinite professed her love to him, and what he kept in his notebook ever since. Regardless, there had to be a reason, one that he could not figure out. The uncertainty propelled him to act.

[color=seagreen]“It appears to me that you have the means of entry regardless of my decision.”[/color] He stood up, clutching his notebook, and turned to Thomas. His agitation was masked by verbosity. [color=seagreen]“Which renders my role almost moot, doesn't it? Out of moral principles, I shall still decline, make no mistake. Despite that, I hope you do not mind explaining yourself in front of myself and the others.”[/color]