"I...I..." Still overwhelmed by the experiences of the past several hours, the bardess flounders for words for a few seconds. But once she catches a flicker of Tali's motion in her visual field, she remembers she can laugh at herself again. Her lips curl into a tortuous, pained smile, and she shakes her head in proud embarrassment. "The heart can sometimes see the way when intellect and the senses fail," Melinda admits with a sheepish smile. "I'm a mystic, Your Holiness. The Three rewarded us with the first vision of the Triune, and I had to seek it again. I sought it out, and at every juncture it tempted me in return." She bites her lip. "I ... could not decline."

"My Auntie sent me here in the hopes I'd learn my lesson, and always remember to own myself in every way. She was right," she laughs. "But so am I now, I feel. Just as important to own ourselves completely as to be willing to sell ourselves completely, and properly bear the burdens of hope." As Zanthia uncovers the markings upon her body, she moves to frame them. "These are the marks of my hope. They are my will to power. One way or another, with them I will live, and upon them I shall die. I hope to make them meaningful."

"That is all I have to confess, Holy Mother."