Dahlia’s face went pale, Quinn could feel her hand beginning to clam up. Her mouth opened but when no words came out, it shut again. She shook her head. “[color=skyblue]I…[/color]” her voice dribbled from her lips, muted and unformed. 

Why [i]did[/i] it have Eain’s sword?

“[color=skyblue]Maybe…[/color]” her mind raced—no, more [i]scrambled[/i]—for an answer. There ought to have been one, she figured. Centuries of history and research had gone into studying the Modir, so surely, [i]surely[/i] this had happened before. There had to be precedence, and she just wasn’t well-read enough to know it off-hand. 

[i]Get it together,[/i] she thought, harshly. [i]You’re going to scare her if you don’t get. It. Together.[/i]

Dahlia took a breath. “[color=skyblue]Wherever…wherever the weapons come from, you know, when we pull them, or when we send them away—we don’t really know [i]where[/i] that is. And the Modir [i]do[/i] have weapons. Could…could be that they just…waited ‘til Eain was dead. It’s a good sword, isn’t it? Could be they waited. Or…[/color]” She let go of Quinn’s hand, but got up to stand beside her instead. “[color=skyblue]Maybe it just…thinks it’s Eain, still. There’s probably studies on reclaimed Modir, but…well, you know what it feels like in there—with the Circuit. How could anyone [i]really[/i] know what happens after? If we get absorbed, well…part of us has to still be there then, right? So, yeah, it…maybe it thinks it’s him. Or it’s fooling the weapon. Or…[/color]” 

She sighed, suddenly and inexplicably frustrated with herself. “[color=skyblue]I don’t know. But you know what, Quinn? [i]I don’t care.[/i][/color]” She looked down at her, eyes hard and reassuring. “[color=skyblue]Swordsman, [i]Dammerung[/i], Eain—I don’t care who or what it is. It can’t have you. You’re my sister, and I made you a promise. So it can’t have you, and that’s just the way it is. Besca’s right; it better think twice about showing its face again, cause if it does, we’re gonna mulch it like the monster it is. Together.[/color]”