Little noises catch Ikora's attention. Sounds of shifting and settling. Fidgeting. Drawn from her meditation, Ikora slits her eyes open to look accusingly across the coffee table. The expected culprit, Chalco, sits perfectly still. A ball of swirling, silent Void rests between the Hunter's hands. Perhaps she is innocent. Feeling downright restless by comparison, Ikora forces her eyes closed again. She counts her breaths; she clears her mind. The moment extends, balanced on the head of a pin. The Light in her pulses softly with her heartbeat. Cloth rustles. Ikora pointedly makes her breathing louder. She will embrace peace in this moment. She has meditated through a hundred distractions before, through the din of pitched battle and crushing heat. She will not cede this ground here and now. And yet when Ikora finally turns her inner gaze unflinching upon herself, ignoring the whisper-quiet sounds of a knife re-sheathing… she would simply rather be out in the sunlight with a friend. There are days, after all, when it is better to yield. She is not so proud that she cannot admit this. Ikora unfolds herself from her seat, eyes turned again on Chalco, who appears tranquil, shimmering faintly with the calm stillness of Void. "All right," Ikora says. "You win." Chalco is in motion in an instant, and the violet energy vanishes neatly as she vaults to her feet. She smiles—a little sly, a little knowing. It is useless to try feigning annoyance. As they leave Ikora's personal library, Ikora falls into step with Chalco, and they take the Hidden way out together. Dim artificial lighting gives way eventually to true sunlight, to a Tower decorated in gold and greenery. Ikora basks in warmth. The moment feels right, in a way it hadn't before. "The things I saw, in the Pale Heart," she says aloud. Chalco slows her steps for Ikora's lingering. "Yeah?" "I think I'll need the worst dumplings in the City," Ikora says. "To explain." Chalco laughs, and Ikora's restlessness settles.