[translation notes: 'pare' and 'mare' are father and mother in Catalan respectively]

Once upon a time, I refuse to write history like a bad fairy tale. Which is why this one plunges in.

Mirari's parents were those annoying people who were so comprehensively in love the sugar rots your teeth. Well, at least until Mirari was born. Which is not to say that her arrival made them hate each other, but the appearance of a bouncing, demanding, hungry baby tends to cut down on opportunities to be disgustingly in love. So, yes. She was born, and her parents did all the appropriate things while she was young. One of which things involved the production of a sibling to join her in bliss. Err, yeah.

So here's Mirari, and her sister Tasia, growing up together in Barcelona, pare's an engineer, and mare's reluctantly playing housewife. Mirari teaches herself basic reading about the same time her sister is born, which keeps her busy, and thus is born her lifelong love of the written word. She starts school, baby sister tagging along for preschool, and all is well ...

At least until her teachers and classmates discover how intelligent she is, and then the shit hits the fan, oh yes. Little kids don't like peers who are demonstrably smarter than they are, so predictable teasing resulted, and 5-year-old Mirari's not really able to let it roll off her back. She comes home in tears a lot, but mare can't really do a lot to help. Mirari's got to learn to deal with it on her own.

Which she does, but not by engaging in either of the predictable routes -- that is, she doesn't get into fights, nor does she learn to ignore it. Instead, she withdraws into a tiny circle of trusted friendships which includes her sister and about two others. Mirari grows up through grade school, passing grades easily, but never making many friends and never being very popular with anyone but her teachers, who fawn over her swift mind. And as far as she was concerned, that wasn't a big deal. She'd rather read than play futbol any day. She's happy with her world.

Then her world turns upsidedown. Pare's being promoted! The company is moving him to .. Venice, of all places, far away in Italy, where no one speaks Catalan, much less Basque. Nobody familiar there except mare and pare and Tasia. But Mirari has no choice -- the family is going, and that's that. Mirari is ten that summer, right as they move.

[@.@ I gotta switch tenses here again; present tense is giving me headexplody]

So they move to Venice, and predictably, the move gave Mirari problems. Think about it. She wasn't all that popular to begin with, and right at the age when people start to care about that, she's been uprooted. Mirari withdrew into herself a lot more, especially when her new classmates began to tease her a lot more than her old ones did -- about her accent, about her glasses, about her intelligence. And Mirari didn't get any less sensitive.

It took about two years for the toll to truly tell on her -- and then she locked herself in her parents' bathroom and claimed the 'voices' were saying she should die.

Needless to say, that got everyone's attention.

Mare and pare hauled her off to a psychiatrist, who diagnosed clinical depression and put her on daily meds. Mirari hated it. She hated having to remember to take the pill, she hated the fact that, as far as she saw it, her moods were being controlled, and she especially hated the outside interference in her life. But what was a 12-year-old to do but be obedient?

So she was. She dutifully saw the therapist monthly, had blood drawn, took her pills ... and within herself, felt nothing change at all. She was still teased, still smarter than most of her classmates, still lonely.

4 years passed in this limbo. Mirari grew older, slightly taller, went to high school, became a woman, had some crushes, found a group to at least each lunch with, failed her very first class, and generally lived. She was still on the meds, but the therapist visits had tapered off.

Mare and pare were beginning to think that their little girl would be okay, when she fell in love. Far more than a crush, Mirari ripped her heart to shreds on the unintentional indifference of a senior named Natale. The experience turned out to be valuable later, teaching her how to desire someone else's happiness over her own, but at the time it was incredibly painful for all involved, and unfortunately culminated in another suicide threat. This time, Mirari tracked her lunch group to a popular hangout after a school-based ceremony, and felt her hardwon control cracking under the terrible strain of being left out.

She pulled a pocketknife and began to slide it up and down her wrists -- and who should happen to walk by and see her?

Natale. Clichéd as hell and the absolute truth. He snatched the pocketknife out of her hand and called her mother right away. Mirari couldn't look Natale in the face for months after that. It was just as well, as he graduated that year.

Mirari took her senior year, after Natale left, as an opportunity to change some things about her life. She talked her parents into letting her switch meds, and started seeing a new therapist; she attempted to participate more in classes. And she opened up and warmed up to a friendly Mormon boy whose parents had come to Venice on their mission trip and simply stayed. They went to a few dances, but both of them realised that his faith would stand in the way of anything more serious for a long time yet.

In due time, Mirari graduated from high school, and went off to John Cabot University in Rome. Mare tried the entire year to convince Mirari to go to school closer to home, but Mirari was determined to get out on her own, out from under the stifling influence of her family. So off to John Cabot she went, to study writing and literature.

In not-so-brief summation: she discovered the internet and made two other best friends there; her first week there, she met two girls named Mercedes and Concetta, whom she stayed close to for all four years, then lost touch with after graduation; at the same time she met and fell for her very first boyfriend, with whom she experienced a lot of firsts, including the painful one of being rudely dumped; discovered her love of languages; discovered she wasn't cut out for a lot of friends but perfectly happy with a few; contemplated suicide again and finally made up her mind to never ever try again; met, dated, and was dumped by three other guys and figured she wasn't cut out for love; and finally made it through to graduation. She graduated with high honours and a B.A in literature, and immediately began making plans to apply for the master's program in linguistic studies.

A bit more detail on Mirari's love life, or lack thereof: all four of the men that Mirari has dated have dumped her. She cared for them all very deeply, and one of them came very near to proposing to her. The very first one accused her of bespelling him, which really cut her up, and another one claimed he couldn't love anyone he fought with -- and Mirari does have a temper! In short, her taste hasn't been that good, she is high-maintainance, and she is convinced that she is doomed to be unlucky in love.

Currently, Mirari lives with three other semi-random grad students, attends John Cabot in the linguistics program, and works a part-time job as a translator. She pays for college through student loans, and her parents help her half and half in terms of paying for housing, but she's not happy with the people she's living with, and is looking for two other roommates so she can move somewhere else.
[mun's note: Tami said it was okay to fake a master's program at John Cabot, and for Mirari to be looking among the characters of SMyth-Rome for new roommates. If I can't find two, I'll make a NPC with permission]

Personality

Mirari is a person of many parts, many of them contradictory. Much of what she is as Sailor Nemesis is locked away, to be released with her first henshin, and it will take much time to assimilate those aspects into her personality.

Mirari:

Mirari possesses a magnetic, passionate, forceful, and powerful personality. She is openhearted and generous, loving to give and recieve. She has the characteristics of a natural leader, with a willingness to listen, an ability to absorb and the quick mind to put together many disparate details, but she also has a certain natural reserve that prevents her from taking advantage of this ability -- in fact, she avoids situations where she might have to acknowledge herself as a leader, while unconsciously taking charge in chaotic situations. She fears being resented for leading, preferring the goodwill of her peers over the power of leading them.

Determination and ambition are strongly marked in her nature, along with a level of dignity and self-assurance that resents being pricked. She may be willing to listen and learn from others, but where she believes she's right, she is immovable by any ordinary argument. Mirari acknowledges correction only from those she respects as having authority, and deeply resents being told she is wrong; she believes in a world where nothing is wrong, only a different path or way of seeing things. This view tends to get her in trouble with her peers quite often.

Mirari is quite open and outspoken, which contributes to the problem. In sharp contrast to her natural reserve under other circumstances, in class situations or while with friends or most especially while in an argument she places little to no curb on her tongue at all, expressing her ideas clearly, fluently, and rather forcefully. Language is Mirari's bitch, and in service to her ideas and beliefs she makes it leap and dance. Tact is not something Mirari possesses in any degree but tiny.

A peculiar dichotomy exists within Mirari. On the one hand, she is loath to expose her shortcomings and any lack of knowledge to others, and even more loath to be seen in any but the best light. And yet, at the same time she hungers for knowledge; a deep desire to know more drives her. This is coupled with an equally strong desire to BE seen as the best (occasionally rendered as a desire simply to be SEEN at all). Mirari struggles within herself often, wavering between a desire to teach and a desire to learn, between twin desires to hide and observe and to show off her abilities. She fears that she is, in fact, not the best, not good enough, and yet a desperate desire to be known and seen, acknowledged, torments her. She continually tests herself against her fears, which often alienates people, fueling as it does her outspokenness.

Drama plays a large part in Mirari's personality; it ties into her love of and skill with language, providing her with a natural ability as an actress, a path she chose not to pursue any frather than local theatre groups. This dramatic tendency is also tied closely into the strong emotions that are such a key to her personality.

Mirari FEELS. Strongly. Anything, everything, if an event would trigger an emotion it would be doubly so in her. Her emotions can be overwhelming, simple, pure, and powerful. She is intensely empathetic, quick to feel sympathy for others' pain and joy in their triumphs. No mystery she, with her open, easily readable expression and unwillingness to pretend to anything she doesn't truly feel. Inflicting pain without the support of rage comes hard to her, and lying comes even harder.

Coupled to both her powerful emotions and wavering self-esteem is a memory that is nearly eidetic for feelings. Like an elephant, she never forgets -- neither praise nor slights; and anything said in anger or cruelty will lodge in her psyche and fester. Yet Mirari is not one to hold grudges; she rarely seeks outright revenge for an insult. Instead, she flagellates herself with them, using others' disdain of her as proof of her inherent unworthiness. She spends her life on an emotional teetertotter, swinging from pride to despair.

Both anger and love are emotions that come easily to Mirari; she possesses a flashfire temper that can burst into flames at the slightest provocation and cool down equally quickly. The last five years of her life have been partially spent in placing a strong curb on that unpredictable temper, but even now her best method of dealing with it is to simply walk away from whatever is making her angry until she can return without screaming at said whatever. Fortunately for her, the obvious sincerity of all her emotions makes it easy for her to apologise and have that apology be accepted as valid, which does help to smooth over various problems caused by her temper.

As impulsive as she is tactless, Mirari judges people and situations quickly and easily, and is surprisingly accurate in her swift initial impressions. She is unlikely to revise her first judgment of anything, though, most especially if the first impression is negative. She is supremely stubborn, and refuses to accept anyone else's judgment; she'll always make her own. It goes back to hating to be told she's wrong. She reacts to that quick judgement instinctively, often leaping into things before she's entirely sure of what is going on.

She takes a great deal personally, and becomes emotionally involved in just about everything that comes her way. Mirari's passionate emotions extend themselves into throwing herself 100% into whatever she tries her hand at, at least for a while. Whatever she likes, she likes a lot; whatever she dislikes is disliked equally as much. Oddly, however, her likes often extend into love, but dislikes rarely become so intense as to be called hates. Objectivity is just a word to Mirari; her feelings are involved in EVERYTHING.

Herein lies another of her major faults: an unfortunate tendency to expect others to live up to her high standards, and to reject them if they don't measure up. She can't even meet these standards herself, and as with insults beats herself with this failure, but she still expects others to live up to them. Part of this is due to her strangely idealistic outlook, which looks for, usually sees, and expects the best out of the world and everyone around her. Thus, when events and people fail to measure up, she is inevitably disappointed. She honestly and constantly believes, despite all evidence to the contrary, that things will turn out right.

And yes, she believes this even though a large part of herself still categorises herself as an eternal failure, doomed to be a useless piece of baggage.

She dislikes talking about her problems, perferring to ignore them as much as possible in the hopes that they will go away. Failing that, she prefers not to burden the people she loves with her useless whinging, being rather happier when they let her solve their problems instead. She is, in fact, a good and sympathetic listener, and often manges to come out with useful advice, or at least enough honest caring to make the person feel better.

The final, major contradiction in Mirari's personality is how she deals with people. She is an introvert, a person who regains personal energy from solitude, and yet she dislikes being alone. Her best compromise is to make a few close friends to keep by her, and try not to spend a lot of time in large crowds, which inevitably wear her out. Yet life will not allow her much personal time, and she has to spend much of her day associating with people she is not familiar with in large groups. It tends to make her even more moody than usual, although she at least tries to keep a cheerful mien.

Finally, there is the fragment of Mirari's personality that deals with her love life. She has lived much of her life believing that she will never find happiness in love, and tends to look wistfully at happy couples. She crushes often and easily, but usually manages to find reasons not to do anything about it. She believes that her fatal flaws are an overabundance of possessiveness and a willingness to devote herself completely to her partner. When a relationship ends, she is usually completely devastated, as if someone near to her had died. Her recent bad experiences in college haven't helped the situation any, since none of the guys she dated in college will even speak to her now. Mirari isn't completely daunted; she'll keep trying to open her heart to people who may or may not return her feelings. Between her vague obsession with not being single, and being pretty demanding emotionally, it's hard. She feels weird sleeping alone now, and dislikes BEING mentally, emotionally alone, leading to almost constant low-level checking out of guys.
[quote=Angie] she'd have a better shot if she could calm down and pick a stable, giving guy [/quote]

Nemesis:

Nemesis, on the other hand, is a driven person. Her single, sole focus is on keeping the scales of luck balanced. Emotion means little to her, and she is disturbingly objective. She is ruthless, implacable, dedicated, and cruel. She is vindictive and determined when it come to getting even with someone who has wronged her. Easily offended, she is apt to hold a grudge and take vengeance. And she carries a lot of old grudges, many of them against the usurping Romanus. Also, she carries something of a grudge against her old partner Tyche; fortunately for him he's in Roanoke.

"Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Appearance

[mun's note: Tami said it was okay if I divided up the appearance desc into parts]
Quick Sketch

Face Shape: heart
Skin Tone: olive golden
Eye Colour: hazel green
Hair Colour: golden brown, dyed burgundy red
Hair Characteristics: slightly wavy, hip length, braid / bun / twin braids, no bangs, center part
Height: 5'2"
Build: dancer's
Special Marks: strong chin, body scar, eye-glasses, long nails, freckles
Voice: mezzosoprano

Hair:

Mirari has very long hair. Longer even than what's normally considered long, as in her hair reaches past her hips. Yes, it is a pain in the ass. Yes, it does get in the way while fighting, which is why her henshin braids it for her. It's naturally a darkening honey brunette -- she was born blonde, and her hair has darkened over the years. But she dyes it burgundy red. And when I say burgundy, I mean that -- the dye makes it a rich, soft burgundy red with hints of mahogany. And yes, that does cost a lot. Red fades, so she has to renew it about every three weeks.

Typically, Mirari braids her hair in a single long braid, or else winds it all up in a bun on the back of her head. It takes a good five minutes to brush the stuff every day, so she tries to keep it from getting too, too very tangled; her styling is a preemptive strike against tangles. Some days, after a wash, she put it in twin braids. On special occasions, or when she's feeling very dowdy, she sleeps with it in foam rollers, so it comes out on long, beautiful sausage curls. ... well, it starts out that way. The curls last about 2 hours, without benefit of hairspray.

Face:

Mirari's skin tone is an easily-tannable golden olive. In the wrong light, she looks really sallow -- wrong being florescent or some other harsh artificial light. Sunlight or firelight are her best lights. She doesn't blush all that easily, but when she does it's a faint dull red. She's got random dark brown freckles scattered in places, including one right under her left eye and one on her right earlobe; it looks like another hole.

Her face is a modified heart shape, with a strong chin and 'receeding' temples, making it seem square with a dent in the top. Her mouth is wide, and she has a lot of smile lines, but her normal expression is almost forbidding and gloomy -- saved only by the presence of those smile lines. High cheekbones balance out a nose that's probably too large.

Mirari's eyes are a changeable hazel green, speckled with gold flecks -- although it's not really recommended to get that up-close-and-personal with her. She might bite you. They waver between green, grayish, teal, and a sort of mingled green-brown-gold randomly. Heavy dark brows with little arch overshadow her eyes, but she has pretty, long dark eyelashes. Her eyesight is pretty bad -- near legally blind -- so she wears clear contacs, or occasionally oval-lensed glasses.

We want to get this straight right away: Mirari is not a beauty in any sense of the word. It takes someone who really likes her to call her a beauty, but neither is she plain. Rather, her face has a lot of character to it, which overrides ordinary description. She thinks of herself as rather plain unless she goes to some effort, and knows that when she smiles her appearance improves a lot -- her smile is one of those that lights up the whole face. However, most people tend to go with 'pretty' or 'striking' when describing her.

Body:

Mirari is short. There is no getting around it; at 5'2" and some change she is short. Petite, if you'd rather. She weighs in at 130lbs, which she considers overweight and everyone else says is just fine -- her normal retort being, "I just want to redistribute it." She's got something of a point, having very slim arms but slightly chunky thighs. She's long-boned, though, so the proper clothing makes her seem taller, and when she's paying attention to her posture (read: not slouching) she's nice and slender. Overall, she falls into the 'angular' category.

In the region of the chest, she's not a lot, but just about a handful for most guys, and a bit hippy, too. Cleavage is non-existent, though. ^^;; Her hands, like the rest of her, are slender and long-boned, and she keeps her fingernails as long as she can, although they tend to chip, shred, and break at unfortunate times. She has an annoying habit of tapping her fingernails on hard surfaces.

Mirari has a single notable scar on her right arm, gained from falling out of a bunk bed; it's a raised mark about 2" long and 1/4" wide, tapering at either end. It matches her skin tone now, but it can still be noticable. Other small scars are scattered over her hands and arms from various things.

Voice:

Mirari's voice is ... difficult to classify. She sings second soprano, which falls between normal, high soprano and alto, but she has a good enough range after warmup to sing both first soprano and first alto as well. Speaking-wise, her voice tends to change with her mood, higher and more girlish when she is playful or feeling lost and lonely (contradictory, I know), and lower when she is concentrating on something strongly or just generally serious and focussed. Typically, her voice is on the lower end for a female, but there's nothing particularly special about it. The thing she thinks is strange is a particular sort of emotionless clarity it seems to get whenever she is deeply, truly in-tears-and-shocked upset.

Clothing:

Mirari's closet is mostly casual clothes -- not surprising for someone who aspires to be either a perpetual student or a housemom. The usual shades are teals, roses, peaches, beiges, mostly autumn colours. She possesses a few items in startling colours, like a bright red satin shirt, but for the most part they tend to be slightly muted autumn shades. Typical everyday wear is a pair of blue jeans (sometimes cream) and a tanktop or 3/4-sleeve shirt if it's cooler. Winter is long-sleeve shirts and a cream leather jacket. She wears shorts sometimes if it's REALLY hot. She has a personal fondness for shirts with belled sleeves or sleeves that flare outward from the upper arms.

Dressy wear is most often the basic black dress, although she has a long dress in stunning forest green velveteen. Randomly, if she's feeling either really good or really bad she will wear short sundresses, the favourite being brightly patterned in sunflowers.

Mirari hates shoes, and will go barefoot as often as possible. It's a foible her professors have gotten used to and her friends have come to expect. Rather than get in trouble, though, she packs a pair of sandals in a shoulder tote, and another pair in the saddlebags of her moped.

Senshi

Fuku

Sailor Nemesis' fuku begins with a basic two-piece bodysuit, the same in form and shape as a two-piece racing swimsuit, coloured basic black. Over this is a sheer, translucent 'shirt' with a low, wide v-neck. The front of the shirt is gathered in the front to an elastic lace piece, making it hug her chest more tightly, and 1" wide ribbons reach from the base of the lace to tie in the back. The botton of it comes to a gentle v-point in front and back, and the sleeves are wide 3/4 bells that also fall to a point.

@.@ Ah, hell. Just look at the picture [http://www.firechildren.net/lightfire/temp/fuku0001.jpg, http://www.firechildren.net/lightfire/temp/fuku0003.jpg] and imagine it in black with red flower-patterns.

The skirt is also sheer, falling in multiple folds halfway to her knees. It flows from the bottoms of the bodysuit smoothly. When she spins around, it opens into a complete and perfect circle. The first layer of skirt is slashed and shredded into pieces and patterned with flowers like the 'shirt', while the second, underneath layer is whole and solid black.

Around her throat is a black 1" velvet ribbon with a flame design stitched onto it in blood-red swarovski crystals. She wears black leather ankle boots with elastic insets in the sides, and black socks, which happen to be really short so you can't see them. The boots have 2" chunky heels and the flame design is also embroidered into the elastic. (see also picture [http://www.firechildren.net/lightfire/temp/fuku0004.jpg] and imagine the embroidery)

Also, Nemesis' hair, regardless of how it was before henshin, is always in a single long, tight braid hanging down her back.

Transformation

Nemesis Goddess Power, make-up!

Mirari uses the tarot card "Judgment" to henshin. The card appears held between her first two fingers and edge-on to the viewer when she calls out the transformation phrase. She turns it to face the viewer, then tosses it. The card spins edge-on to the viewer until suddenly it flares in a blinding flash of light, which condenses to the pieces of her fuku. The fuku glows for a brief moment, then fades to normal light. In the blink of an eye the card vanishes and reappears at natural size in its original position.

End pose, artist's description: Sailor Nemesis, standing up straight and tall, feet slightly apart for balance. Right hand before her face, palm toward her face, first two fingers pinning the card between them. Left hand behind her back.

Powers
Retribution

What it looks like:
Sailor Nemesis walks up to the target, or otherwise has eye contact with them. She says, "You have been weighed. You have been measured. And you have been found wanting." Then she touches them on the forehead, and the target suffers the pain, in exact measure, that they caused during the battle, whether it was psychical, mental, emotional, or physical. Nemesis herself endures an echo of about 1/3 strength of that same pain, as payment for this power.

How it works:
Nemesis summons the immortal reflection of the caused pain and forces it onto the target. She can only reach so far back, thus the limitation of only the pain caused durng the battle. This is a very difficult thing to do, and it costs her a lot -- she can only cast this once a day, on one person. If the reflection is of physical pain, what the target gets is JUST the pain -- there are no wounds, nothing like that. And even if the target is an emotionless sadist, if they've caused emotional pain, this spell will force them to feel it. Nemesis must be able to both make eye contact and touch the target for the power to work, but if she somehow fails to touch them or loses eye contact before the spell is completed then the power just drains away to be summoned again later. The true cost of this power is measured in the echo that Nemesis endures.
And once Mirari integrates Nemesis' memories into her own, a secondary cost will be measured, for Mirari is compassionate, and she will feel guilty even as she knows she must punish the arrogant.

Mirari didn't go to class the next day. Her alarm went off, but her exhausted sleep was so deep she never heard it, and eventually it shut off by itself. Full, blaring sunlight in her eyes finally brought her back to consciousness. She felt tight, cramped, her eyes sandy and head throbbing. 'Why is it afternoon? Oh, shit, I overslept! … not like it matters for one day. Nothing matters today.' She curled herself around the body pillow and hid her face from the light. What right did it have to shine like that when she was so miserable?

Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. She had no intentions of moving anytime soon. Hot tears stained the pillow and burned her nose. A knock at the door shocked her into full wakefulness. Maybe if she was quiet, they would go away … the knock came again.

"I know you're in there, Mirari. Can I come in?" Concetta's voice. Mercedes was probably in class yet. Mirari grumbled and refused to answer. Maybe she would go away.

Still no luck. Concetta pushed the door open and stood on the threshold, tapping her foot. Mirari's first best friend was a complete physical contrast, with short hair where Mirari's was long, dark where Mirari was light, tall where Mirari was short, curvy and sensuous where Mirari was lanky and angular. Concetta flowed across the room, stopping by the bed. "What do you want?" she muttered ungraciously, voice muffled by the pillow she kept her face buried in.

"The whole hall's guessed by now." Concetta's answer wasn't really an answer, but Mirari understood. Their conversations were often like that, each one's unvoiced questions answered aloud by one of the other two. It royally confused anyone who tried to join in. Concetta turned back an edge of the coverlet idly.

Mirari succumbed to the silent insistence of her friend, raising her head to meet Concetta's black eyes. Snagging a washcloth from the nearby dresser, Concetta solemnly handed it over for the purpose of smearing tear streaks from Mirari's face. Sullenly, Mirari scrubbed at her eyes.

"I brought food," Concetta told her.

"Not hungry."

"Not even for peanut butter and banana sandwiches with chocolate milk?"

Hot tears slid down Mirari's face, leaving a cold trail behind. Concetta perched on the edge of the bed and pulled her friend into her arms, holding the other girl's head on her shoulder. She sighed, stroking the brilliant burgundy hair gently. Late afternoon sunlight turned strands of it a richer, burnished copper.

Mirari sobbed harshly, painful moans racking her body. She cried as though a storm had taken residence inside her eyes, as if Concetta's gentle, loving touch had undammed some unsuspected river within, until her head pounded and any more tears would have made her sick. Soon only an occasional half-swallowed gulp broke the stillness.

"Better?"

Concetta took the resulting sniff as a yes, and helped Mirari sit up against the wall. Bringing the food in from the hall, she put it in front of Mirari. Mirari pushed the plate away, and Concetta sat it back in front of her. "Eat."

Mirari ate.

Concetta watched her for a few moments, then asked, "How do you feel?"

"Numb."

"Thought so."

Despite herself, Mirari snickered.