Metatron heard Ythala's song from his room, immediately shooting up. "I know this song..." Metatron thought to himself as he listened to it, weirdly calmed by it. He uttered the name of the tune in an impossible language, but the name didn't matter, what mattered was the feeling it brought onto him. A feeling of warm, gentle, unending love. He knew this song, and he knew what it meant...
"Ahh..."
It calmed Metatron down significantly, clearing his head. It was not anywhere near on par with the original musician's version, but, regardless, it calmed him. He thought of his mistake, and how to fix it, reminded of his late brother's words, words he thought he'd long forgotten. Metatron got up, racking his mind.
"But who do I go to...?"
He didn't know how to fix relationships, he'd always had... decent ones, at least. He'd never thought about what to do, what to say, how to say it and whatnot, he just never had. He couldn't go to the wrestler, that's for sure, he'd rather die than even consider going to that pathetic fool for help. Maybe the Apoptosis? No, they barely interacted, there was no point, and it was the same thing for her wife, the hero, though it wasn't as if he held any grudges against them. It was the same for Yharon, Rhongomyniad, Kinzer, and basically everyone else barring... Cullthane. But obviously, he couldn't go to him. There was only one person he could
maybe talk to about it.
"....Lance..."
Metatron scoffed, simply laying back down.
"I probably should talk to Gabriel... I am way too paranoid..." Rhongomyniad said, chuckling a bit
"Yeah, that definitely sounds like a good idea," Kinzer said, chuckling as well. "Want me to come with yah?"
Ythala let out a small yelp when she swung her sword, scurrying back a few feet out of fear. Yet...she kept watching, the gentle breeze brushing against her skin, almost comforting her. She continued to watch, her eyes widening as she saw the sword's movements. In...some strange way, it reminded her of music. The tempo and speed of her dance-like movements....they reminded her of one of the songs she had learned in the past. Gently, quietly, she summoned a harp into her hands, the gold instrument emitting a soft, bright light. Gently, she ran her hand along the strings, beginning to play a tune that matched the patterns of Okita's training, the beautiful music flowing throughout the training room.
Okita would soon cease her training, turning to Ythala. "That is a beautiful tune, Ythala. What do you call it?"