"[color=gray]Quinnlash, look at me. You are not a monster, and you never could be.[/color]"

Something inside of Quinn [i]cracked.[/i]

Nerves connected. Synapses sparked. Thoughts darted around her head like a swarm of bugs. She felt like her brain was [i]foaming,[/i] fizzing and popping wildly. Things snapped into place suddenly, puzzle pieces clattering around finding their matches. She felt like she was on the verge of something stunningly important. Something life-altering, building up inside of her.

All of a sudden, she remembered her conversation—if it could really be called that—with Roaki last night. She was a duelist pilot. Someone who only ever [i]hurt[/i] others. She took that weapon, a weapon meant to [i]save[/i] people, and used it to end them. And right then, she realized deep in her core:

She and Roaki were eerily similar, it was true. She remembered as much from that last dream-conversation. She'd said so to that version of herself, and she still stood by it. But there was one thing that was truly, deeply different: that was not the kind of pilot she wanted to be. But then the question presented itself, naturally, whipping through her head like a desert gale.

If she wasn't that kind of pilot...then what kind of pilot [i]did[/i] she want to be?

A pilot that fought the Modir? No. It was true—or, well, it [i]would[/i] be true—but that was the [i]means[/i] and not the [i]ends.[/i] She didn't want to kill them just to kill. She didn't want to kill them for revenge. The didn't even really want to kill them. She [i]needed[/i] to. Important, but it wasn't—she flashed back momentarily to [color=black]Quinnlash's[/color] assertion: [color=black][i]We're a pilot. We should be killing monsters. That's what we're made for. That's our purpose.[/i][/color]

Only no, it wasn't. A purpose wasn't [i]what you did.[/i] It was [i]why you did it.[/i] A note of protest rose from deep within her. She [i]crushed[/i] it back down. No. Not now. Not today.

A pilot that kept her family safe? Again, it was true. It was deeply, painfully true. She cared more about Dahlia and Besca than anything else in the whole world, and whenever they hurt, she hurt alongside them. She wanted to protect them so badly she could feel it in her bones.  But again—though it wasn't wrong—it also wasn't complete. She loved them. She loved them with her whole heart, and staying there on the Aerie was why she first [i]became[/i] a pilot.

But somewhere along the line—the training, the study, the self-reflection—that had stopped. Or...not entirely. Her caring for them hadn't waned. In fact, it had only grown stronger. But there was a whole world along with them. What would she do if she kept Dahlia and Besca safe but Doctor Follen, the head chef, the nurses that had taken care of her when she was comatose died instead? What would she think? And there a world outside of Runa, as last night had taught her. Filled with people who she was sure were just like her, hurting just as much as she had. As she did.

So no. Her family wasn't the [i]purpose[/i] for what she did. It was the [i]catalyst[/i]. They were why she had [i]become[/i] a pilot. But they weren't why she [i]was[/i] a pilot.

So again...why was she?

She looked up at Besca's eye, so grimly certain, but so kind and caring. She felt the hand against her cheek, wiping away tears that weren't even there. She felt the warmth inside her, glowing from the inside as Besca fretted over her. 

This. This was why she was a pilot. These things. These feelings. And not just for her. She closed her eye, memories of cold white walls enwrapping her. How many more out there had that kind of life? Alone, lost, couldn't find a way out?

She could be their lighthouse.

She knew it as soon as she thought it. [i]This[/i] was why she was a pilot. Not for money. Not for fame. Not for personal gain, or to protect only those closest to her. No. Quinnlash Loughvein would be a [i]torch.[/i] A burning brand, for people like [i]her[/i] to find. People like Dahlia. A beacon to light up the world around her and keep everyone there [i]safe.[/i]

She opened her eye once more. Looked Besca straight on in hers. Her voice had gone through a change, somehow. It was still shaking, of course. She was still terrified, still had to kill. But there was something else there too now. Something nebulous, subtle. If she thought about it, she wouldn't be able to pick it out. But she knew it came from finding something. A purpose. A kind of pilot to [b]be[/b].

Someone who would drag light with her into the future, no matter how dark. Who would set the night—

"[color=FFE63D]Can I still change my Savior designation in time for the duel?[/color]"