[color=AAB7A6][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/DWugkeB.png[/img]
ａｎｄ　ｈｅｒ　ｄｕｔｉｅｓ　ａｓ　ｅｓｔａｂｌｉｓｈｅｄ[/center][/color]Morning--The Rookery, New York City[right][Everybody][/right][center][color=616161]----- xx -----[/color][/center]

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

The pen quietly fell as Seven continued to place the pen upright and let it fall.

The archbishop and his associates--could they be called clergy--continued and Seven was told what to do. It was always easier that way. Though, she never quite personally enjoyed as broad of a mission as this. It was much easier when she didn't have to think and make choices. To be a tool whose only purpose was used--ah--wasn't that romantic?

Of course, thoughts of what she would have to do were already pervading her mind. The pace of her playing with the pen continued to slow as her thoughts slowed her down. To dowse the land with poisoned words--to sing a song that poisoned the mind. But that was complex and required forethought. She didn't want to think about it. She wanted to give herself to the wind and live in the moment.

The pace of the pen picked back up again.

Mo Ye had taken one of the business cards. In general, it was a bad idea to directly hand things to her ward. But it was a business card and those had a habit of being useful.

Until bothered, Seven wouldn't move. And they hadn't told her to start, then she would simply continue to play.

But she would keeping the pen. After all, an orphaned instrument was surely not to be missed.