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ａｎｄ　ｔｈｅ　ｃｏｎｎｅｃｔｉｏｎ　ｏｆ　ｋｉｔｈ　ａｎｄ　ｋｉｎ[/center][/color]
It was romantic, wasn't it? Long walks on the beach--though she lacked a beloved to share in this moment. The rot didn't quite bother her. It would be a lie to say she didn't care about it. She just wished that she could embrace the sand and feel every grain. The layer of caked rot had told her that it was, unfortunately, a bad idea.

A familiar vibration. One that she kept in her breast pocket, close to her heart. Were they going to be words of disappointment? Words of what could be praise? She could never tell.

But the message--

Ah--her siblings.

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Morning--The Rookery, New York City[right][Everybody][/right]

Her arrival was strangely quiet. An unmarked black sedan, like many others, drove to the entrance. From it, two women moved past the mob and guards--one following by watching the feet of the first. This wasn't by choice or nervous affect, of course. A fabric veil over blinded Seven as though she were some kind of perpetrator. Though maybe she more resembled a horse.

The thoughts filled her mind. Her siblings--what would they be like? In truth, she was quite excited to see them. What she knew of them was... difficult to recollect. It was impossible for her to tell when the memories ended and the dreams began. Maybe she could rely on what she had written down, but her journals were equal parts feelings and delusions. She was taught never to write the truth--but her thoughts were okay.

[color=AAB7A6]"Ah..."[/color] the words stumbled as she did, a result of no longer following the steps of her handler. She had moved off track in the lobby and tripped over the feet of one of the guards. Before he could absent-mindedly help the child back up, Mo Ye had moved in front of him to place her hand on his chest. Without a word, she began to move once more. Seven lifted herself up and once again followed her feet.

Inside the rookery, the veil was unceremoniously removed. Seven wore a simple black mask that covered her mouth. Unlike the fragments of the childhood she could remember, this mask didn't have the bitter spray that singed her tongue if she was not careful. She was too old for those kind of accidents. This mask was merely an assurance--something to make others worry less about the words she spoke.

Mo Ye gave standard greetings to the other handlers. Nothing of importance--simply words that were as obligatory as they were trite.

Familiarity washed over Seven as she saw her siblings.

A twinge struck her chest as she saw Two. To lay oneself bare in the truest sense.

The observant look from Three; it didn't fill the void, but the attention was still pleasant--despite the hidden truth of why.

Though his attention was nothing compared to Nine's. That much she could intuit.

Seven could feel a certain kinship with Eleven as both of them remained rather silent. Though, unlike her, Seven did not have the assurance of her handler as Mo Ye kept her distance.

Fourteen was cute. Seven was much too old to have such an entrance. 

No, she restrained herself. She was an adult. And adults would simply stand and wait, unfortunate as it was.