The room is cloaked in oppressive shadow, as if harboring a menacing spirit.
A gentleman emerges from the darkness.
Forget Me Not: You did well, Apostle.
He examines the Spirit Shells, the lifelong emotions of the Nukutai lightly clinking in his hands.
Forget Me Not: These are splendid.
Forget Me Not: They will ensure the overflow of ritual energy will be properly contained.
Forget Me Not: To be frank, I had my doubts about your capabilities.
Forget Me Not: You're still wet behind the ears, and you haven't yet gotten enough blood on those hands of yours.
The apostle bows. Her pale hand is clinging to the doorframe.
Ms. Grace: I am willing to do anything for THEIR return.
Forget Me Not offers her an encouraging smile.
Forget Me Not: Still, you surpassed my expectations.
Ms. Grace: ...
Her hand is trembling.
Forget Me Not: You look tired.
Forget Me Not: Life at sea must have taken its toll on you. Relax now. You're home.
Ms. Grace: As you wish.
She takes a deep breath and hides her trembling fingers behind her back.
Forget Me Not: You will play an important role in our upcoming plans.
Forget Me Not: Rest well, Apostle.
Ms. Grace: I will.
Grace's hand freezes as she goes to close the door. Her hesitation is evident.
Ms. Grace: ...
Ms. Grace: Thank you, Mr. Forget Me Not.
Forget Me Not: Heh heh.
As she shuts the door, Forget Me Not's outline blurs, and his smile vanishes into the shadows.
Ms. Grace: ...
Steadying herself, Grace slowly moves toward the faint glimmer of light.
Ms. Grace: ...
The wind whipping through the corridor causes her to shiver.
Ms. Grace: ...!
She presses her back against the door and slides to the ground.
Ms. Grace: cough
Trembling, she crawls into the nearest coffin.
A display case meant for the next specimen.
Ms. Grace: ...
Ms. Grace: ♪ ...
Ms. Grace: ♪ ... ♫ ...
Barcarola: It's hard to see here. Please hold onto each other and follow the sound of my music.
Grateful Guest: Thank you so much, Ms. Barcarola! If it weren't for you, we never would've survived!
Grateful Guest: You're so courageous!
Antsy Guest: But what if there aren't enough lifeboats for everyone?
Antsy Guest: Will we have to leave anyone behind?
The guest's shivering questions are scattered by the sea breeze.
They shudder and stumble as they follow the music.
The sky is dark, but the churning clouds are no longer noisy. The cries of gulls and the crashing of waves merge with the weeping of the crowd.
They make their way through corridors and staircases for what seems like an eternity, their faces steeped in shadow.
Antsy Guest: I don't want to die like this. There are still so many things I want to do!
Dismayed Guest: sob I want to go home. Even if the "Storm" changes everything, I just want to go ...
Fatutu: We have talked about it, and the Nukutai are willing to give up their spots if there aren't enough boats for everyone.
Fatutu: We want to make amends for what happened earlier.
Barcarola: Fatutu, this wasn't your people's fault.
Barcarola: The "Free Breeze" will not abandon any of its passengers.
Barcarola: ...
She raises her Crackling Box high, her face flushing red.
Barcarola: You have my word as the official musical director, and I suppose, the acting captain.
Fatutu: Barcarola, what have you done to your Crackling Box?
Barcarola: *Sinfonia gioiosa, dividetevi con grazia!
Surprised Guest: Oh, Ms. Barcarola, not your zanfona! I remember you telling us how hard you worked to find it.
Reminiscing Guest: I haven't seen one of those since my time in Galicia.
Emotional Guest: You've turned them into boats! Ms. Barcarola, you're not just a great musician, you're a kind soul, too!
Emotional Guest: You saved us!
