"It took the Champion to stymie the spread of the plague... And even I almost failed. Nobody could have been prepared for that plague." Akaritori replied as her flesh returned to her, and the eight wings blossomed forth from her back, almost as if signalling a rebirth, or some other momentous occasion befitting the catharsis that had just spread throughout the room. Akaritori cracked her neck briefly before sheathing Masayoshi, and returning to her desk to continue peering at the book that she had been reading as Allia had entered.

"I'm glad you got the closure you wanted. It is nice to know that there was at least one who survived everything." she replied to Allia, before setting herself back in the exact same posture that she'd been in all day, prior to the little outburst that had just happened - oddly enough, she didn't even seem remotely fazed by the fact there was a gaping hole in her wall. She thought to herself about the rage that had gripped Zilant, and wondered if she had been forced to hold her rage back for as long as he had if anything would have survived her wrath. The thought was terrifying, to say the least. Now, she had the Windspeaker to help with her latent rage, and that was something that she was eternally thankful for. It was still a little difficult to think back to the destruction of Exae, to think of the darkness that had possessed her so easily, but it was necessary. It reminded her of what she was, and how she got to where she was.

"Don't even bother attempting to make appointments when you need to see me. My receptionist is about as useful as the criminals we lock away in the Citadel Tower." she added, the words sounding like a joke but the tone not changing at all - it was a relatively jarring experience to listen to Akaritori make humourous remarks. It was a talent that she had never been particularly good at. She turned again to the whole in the wall, and she remembered that Takumi was on the Isle of Chuusei negotioating a trade with Kyokujitsu. She'd have to call upon Isao to come fix her wall. The mere thought of it made her furrow her brow before she resumed looking at the book, flicking the page casually.

Akaritori was, if nothing else, dedicated to her work.