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[center][color=seagreen]A fool you are, if you fall    and don't rise up to walk again
if you give in to the pain    and drop your mighty pen
Sprout wings and move! move!    set out on the journey,
let the ditch beckon in vain    don't let it get you dirty
and if you ask, why not?    I shall tell you,
What awaits you is a better life    and death that is true.
Because back home, the people    wait for us
to clear the skies of the    charred wind and thus
hold up the crumbling walls    replant the broken trees
scare away the fear    that plagues like a disease.
Oh, you better believe:    carry it in your heart
all that is still worth    that there is something to impart;
there still is! we can go back    to the chilly old porch,
hear the bee of peace buzz    under the shade of a birch,
feel the sweet silence of summer    through the sleepy gardens,
it would be our domain    and we'd be its wardens,
and as another day rises    there'd be no warning
the shadows will be written    by the slow morning, -
it's in our grasp, I can feel it!    keep your head up!
Don't give up, friend,    hear my call! and rise up![/color]

——Daimyon Londe: March On[/center]

Thus went the poem Daimyon found himself in his notebook as the trial was coming to its conclusion. He needed the encouragement himself, as knowing the truth did not set him free, not in the slightest. The notion that Mercy was only under the influence of her own demons and there truly [i]was[/i] no one else involved evoked a flame of vain anger in the poet. It meant that she had had control until the very end, that she, in a better state of mind, could have stopped herself from taking away an innocent life. Whatever she had suffered from was no excuse. It would have been so easy for Daimyon to discard his morals, too, at any given moment. There has not been anything tying him to them for a long time now. Despite that, he always stuck with them, with his identity, with his values—he never descended into madness. It would have been so easy, but he never did. For doing so, he could not forgive the deceased doctor.

His silver lining amid these grim thoughts was the fact that no one else had to die, for one of the robots had offered herself up as a sacrifice. In the end, they were walking out of the court of carnage with two casualties which, as the poet had recorded the previous cases in his notebook, was the least they could afford. He did not note down the fact that there was a new Carnage Sister coming to replace the dead one—he did not need the additional weight on his mind. Another uplifting piece was knowing that Krista's brother was safe and far away from this place. So was the rest of humanity, Daimyon assumed, or at least hoped. He did not wish this experience on his worst enemies; on the other hand, he wondered what would have become of him by now if he was not so...ready to let things go.

The air was heavy as the Infinites got off the rollercoaster. The frantic ride marked the end of a frantic ride, but it came with the promise of more. Normally, the poet would have stuck with the group to try and lift their downtrodden spirits, but his mood was especially sour now for the aforementioned reasons. So he went his own way: checking the map on his e-handbook, he walked out of the resort and into the first floor patient's quarters. His room was marked as the very first one after the resort gate, and he would have stepped inside straight away had he not heard something that caught his attention. An implicit, continuous clanging of metal. Not to mention he also saw two Infinites—Thomas and Ellie, he reminded himself—heading in the sound's direction, almost certainly trying to locate its source.

So he went after them.

Rounding the corner and leaving the rooms behind, the poet finally arrived to a most curious scene. A woman stood—or more accurately, was held up on the stiff stilts that were her legs, looking ready to collapse at any moment—by the elevator. Her hand was held up to its steel frame but she was not banging on it anymore, for she was stopped by a man who seemed almost comically short next to her. Daimyon stayed still for a moment, processing the details. He glanced at the list of Infinites in his e-handbook, then shot a look at Thomas and Ellie before stepping closer to the unfamiliar duo.

[color=seagreen]“Ahem,”[/color] he cleared his throat. [color=seagreen]“Hello there. You must be new here. Are you also Infinites?”[/color]