Soul Calibur - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Discord, Disquiet, Despair ❯ One-Shot
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Sugar Shinimegami 
Read Disclaimer.
Non Anime: Soul Calibur - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Action | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 07.26.2008 | Updated On: 07.26.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 385 | Status: Completed
Read Disclaimer.
Non Anime: Soul Calibur - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Action | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 07.26.2008 | Updated On: 07.26.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 385 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Soul Calibur 3 or any characters, weapons or organizations therein. Unfortunately, Namco gets dibs on them. I do, however, own a couple of the characters mentioned below (but only really through the Character Creation thing, so I guess in theory they sorta aren’t mine…).
Discord, Disquiet, Despair
Step. Step. Step. Pivot, raise, drop, shield, step back.
Tira of the Birds of Passage repeated the drill over and over under the watchful eyes of the Master, she who had mastered the Dance of Death when she was five. Tira looked up to her like a sister- a mother, even- regardless of how many days she made Tira repeat the drill until her arms felt like feeble lengths of string.
Step.
Tira slid her right foot forward slowly, inching toward an invisible target.
Step.
Another slide forward. Tira’s hands gripped the Aiselne Drossel until her knuckles were a smart white.
Step.
A third slide forward, and she began to slowly raise the weapon.
Pivot. Raise. Drop. Shield.
Fast as lightning she spun around on one foot, hoisting the ringblade one-handed into the air and let it slice through empty space with a tinny whistle as it moved, then twirled the inner circle around her arm and into a defensive stance, holding her weapon in front of herself.
Step back.
After a moment, she slid one foot back so she was back in her ‘ready’ stance.
“Good. Now do it again.”
Tira looked at the Master incredulously. That would make it the fifty-sixth time! “But Master--”
“Do it.” The Master, a middle-aged woman wearing a modified kimono and a stern frown, observed from a safe distance with her own ringblade in tow. “You wish to be considered a full member of our organization, yet you continuously fail this simple task. Again, and don’t make a sound,” she called in boredom.
Tira bowed at the waist and started the drill again until-
“I don’t want to hear your shoe scuffing the ground!” barked the voice of the almighty Master. “Perhaps I’m pushing you too hard. Go and have a drink, then come back here.”
Tira gratefully took her up on the offer. She headed to the Birds of Passage’s base camp and sought out a tankard of water. On the way she passed an older mercenary in the organization by the name of Mia. The girl always walked with an air of indifference that irritated the green leather-clad girl to no end.
Amethyst orbs narrowed as the silver –haired girl walked passed with her usual snobbish look in Tira’s direction. It was that same look Tira had received upon becoming a mercenary with the organization, one that made every muscle in her slight frame tense up.
In short, whenever Tira saw Mia, she wanted to kick her ass. Severely. The smug little wench deserved it, after all.
“Maybe, one day when you’ve become better than her I’ll give you a break from the training,” the Master said quietly from behind her, startling the girl.
“She isn’t good, she just sucks up. No offence intended, but she’s blinding you to her real ability. She’s awful,” Tira snapped. Now the Master was defending her biggest rival? Life wasn’t fair!
.::~::.
Training followed its usual boringly tedious routine for an hour or so, when Tira collapsed onto her hands and knees. The Master grudgingly took pity on the girl and gave her the remainder of the day off.
‘It’s a shame… with a prodigy like her…’ the Master thought with an inward sigh. Tira was, in fact, gifted in several ways, regardless of her small stature and young age. Much like herself when she was at that stage in life. ‘I am pushing her too hard…’
Tira came to see her later on. The girl had made a habit of showing gratitude to the Master for training her by making a short trip to the Master’s tent every evening before she retired to her own tent and spieling off a chain of thank-you’s and several other gracious accolades until the Master blushed with embarrassment and shooed her off to bed.
But for some reason… this meeting was different. Tira had show up with a half-grin that melted into a childish pout at the master’s first words.
“Mia isn’t your rival. Get that thought right out of your head,” the Master said sternly.
Tira scowled. “It was that obvious that I was considering that thought?” she muttered, immediately feeling awful. She was letting her anger blind her again. Last time that happened-
Well, she really didn’t want to think about that.
The Master raised a quizzical brow. “She is but four years older than you, and you’ve proven on countless occasions that you are the faster and more powerful of you two, so why the petty rivalry?” she asked quietly.
“I just don’t like her,” Tira replied matter-of-factly.
The Master sighed and rubbed a temple in exasperation. “In that case, you two will spar tomorrow. Wooden rings, no kicking-” Tira opened her mouth to argue, but the Master wouldn’t have any of it. “-and you will settle this once and for all, whether you like it or not. You two are the best of your age group, and who knows? We might have to send you on a mission together.”
Tira pouted again. “Huh, I guess it must get pretty tedious watching us play ‘Who’s the better assassin’ all the time…” she mumbled and scuffed the toe of her boot on the ground. After a moment she looked up at the Master, flashing her secret smile that only a scant few had ever seen. Ever. “Okay, I’ll try to get along with her, mama,” she said teasingly, enjoying the way her superior’s face twisted into a look of mingled confusion and mirth.
The Master snorted. “Don’t call me that.”
Of course, she meant the total opposite.
.::~::.
“So, you finally decided to show up,” the silver-haired assassin drawled from a tree branch. Mia had been sitting in that damn tree for nigh on an hour, and she’d hold Tira responsible if anything happened to her back because of it! Clad in a black leather bustier with intricate designs stitched in gold, black leather pants torn in areas and patched up with gold thread, much like Tira’s outfit, and a heavy belt encasing several small daggers and shuriken- she’d trained as a Fu-Ma kunoichi for a year before realizing there wasn’t much blood involved- she looked fairly dangerous. Like a demon, almost, because of the silver-white of her irises and hair.
Tira wondered if she was human at all.
“Well? Are we going to do this or what?” Mia demanded with a scowl of contempt.
“Alright, alright! Let’s get this over with,” Tira sighed, readying her wooden Aiselne Drossel. Mia matched her movements with a wooden version of the Ixion, her personal ringblade. Tira bounded forward without warning, grabbing the ‘sharp’ end of Mia’s ringblade and pulling it aside to reveal a clear shot- she brought her ringblade down swiftly, stopping only a hair’s breadth away from the older girl’s throat. “Huh, I told them you’re not that good!”
“You didn’t give me any warning!” Mia protested, indignant. “We can’t call this a spar when you’re using me as a stationary target!”
Tira backed off, going back into her guard position. “Fine, we’ll play fair. You won’t beat me, though.”
Several tied matches later, the two collapsed in tired, worn out heaps. Tira lay spread-eagled, allowing the first rays of moonlight to skim over her. “You’re not bad, now that I think about it,” she said to her opponent tiredly.
“Same to you,” Mia replied with a lopsided grin. Then she looked thoughtful for a moment. “Why do we fight all the time?” she asked quietly.
Tira stared heavenward. “I don’t know. We just do, I guess.”
It was a while before Mia spoke again. “They’re sending us on a mission soon,” she announced, sitting up. “...Could be fun.”
“Sure,” Tira agreed. “That makes us both full members, then?”
Mia grinned. “Duncha know it.”
.::~::.
“This is bad… bad, bad, bad…” The Master muttered vehemently as she paced her tent in a frenzy. The Birds Of Passage’s biggest rival organization, a group of thugs that marched under the name ‘Death Strikers’ had declared war on them, sending wave after wave of big ugly brutes with axes and clubs (and no noticeable traces of stealthiness and finesse) to attack members amongst their ranks.
It had gotten to the point that the Master’s Second-in-Command, a tall, muscular fellow named Tartaros, had dispatched the most elite members of the Passage to fend off the barbarians.
So it had come down to one decision- the Master was now forced to send Tira and Mia to defend what was left.
The Master dashed from her tent and stood in the cool evening air. “Tira! Mia!” she bellowed with just a hint of fright and worry for the two girls. What was she about to put them through?
Moments later Tira and Mia emerged from their tents and stood half-asleep in front of the Master. “What’s wrong?” Tira asked, rubbing sleep from her eye and yawning loudly.
The Master hesitated for a fraction of a second. “You two are needed now. More and more of the Strikers are appearing.”
Mia leaned over to Tira and whispered, “I told you so.”
Tira poked her tongue out. “So we’re the last resort, then?” she demanded with an edge in her tone. “You’ve already sent out everyone else, so you need us ‘little kids’ to finish the job?” She turned to Mia with a smirk. “We can send them running home to their ma’s, can’t we?”
“Short of making them wet their pants, yeah,” Mia agreed with restrained enthusiasm.
The Master looked at them oddly. “Ready yourselves. You leave in an hour.” She turned to walk away but stopped after a few steps. Looking over her shoulder, she looked at the two sadly. “Remember to watch over each other. It’s going to be dangerous, and I want my two favorite pupils to return safe, you hear me?” And with that, she left.
.::~::.
Neither of them knew where they were, but wherever it was, it was dark, rank and a little evil-looking. Tira cast a wary eye over their surroundings, regarding it with a look of distaste. “I hate it here already.”
Mia raised a brow at that but kept quiet. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up now- she couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was someone watching them.
And, knowing their luck, there were at least two dozen Strikers hiding in the darkness, waiting to pounce.
Life really wasn’t fair!
Tira readied her Aiselne Drossel, and Mia clutched her Ixion. The two stood back to back, waiting for the Striker bastards to show their ugly faces. They anticipated a long, tedious battle.
What they didn’t see coming was the massive group- half of the brutes- to jump on them with the ornately designed blades they all carried.
The battle was, in fact, long and tedious, full of blocks, parries and strikes that only just missed on both sides.
“Come on, you fools! Let’s see how strong you really are!” Mia crowed, smirking at the Strikers tauntingly. Apparently, the Strikers didn’t like that much at all.
“Dammit, Mia, you’re gonna get yourself killed!” Tira groused, slicing another enemy in half with very little effort. With a graceful twirl, she executed another three men before glaring at the remaining five. “I take that back,” she murmured. Addressing the Strikers, she called, “So, do you want us to prolong your suffering, or would you prefer us to end your pathetic, worthless lives now?”
“I’m not waiting. Let’s finish this!” Mia growled, charging without even looking around. She could see four of the men…
Wait, weren’t there five?
Tira looked on in horror. “Mia, behi-”
The fifth came from nowhere, pushing his blade into Mia’s back, right through her heart. Mia gaped wonderingly, frozen.
‘It wasn’t supposed to end like this!’
“YOU BASTARD! YOU STUPID, STUPID BASTARD! I’LL KILL YOU!” Tira screamed, letting a new wave of bloodlust overcome her. She moved on auto-pilot, slicing here and there with precise cuts, dealing heavy slashes to the final five Strikers. As each of them fell, Tira’s resolve wavered a little until they were dead, and she was left on her hands and knees, panting for breath. She looked at her fallen comrade.
Mia was lifeless, bathed in a pool of her own blood. It was almost funny, really, how dark her blood was, Tira realized. After staring for a moment, she hooped the Ixion over her arm with her Aiselne Drossel, and picked the other girl up. She’d died a hero’s death, so she deserved a hero’s burial.
Outside was cool and dark. Finding a small ditch, Tira gently placed Mia’s body down and covered it with what little grass and dirt she could find. She followed with a moment of silence, and before the tears that threatened to fall overwhelmed her, she walked away.
Nobody murdered a comrade of hers like that. Tira’s blood boiled with fresh anger. The Strikers would pay dearly for her loss.
‘This isn’t my fight…’ she sighed in her mind. ‘I’ll get my revenge, and the Passage can take care of the rest. I’m done with this!’
.::~::.
It became known that a fallen angel in green walked the land, destroying anyone who even thought of defying her. Such was her anger that she never thought twice. It became her goal to find someone with blood as dark as Mia’s- someone equally matched in ability for her to relate to. But no matter how long she searched, there was never anyone who could replace the older girl. It had taken Tira a year after Mia’s death to realize that the older girl had been a friend- her best and only friend, in reality. It fueled her inner rage even more.
Nobody killed her friends in front of her. Or else.
The End
Notes
(1) Discord/Disquiet – Both the titles of songs from the Final Fantasy X-2 Soundtrack, played when engaged in the many various battles against Vegnagun and Shuyin. Despair was just added in for the hell of it.
(2) Tartaros – An entity of ancient Greek mythology. Born a son to the Creator, he lived to become the living underworld, ‘where mortal sinners and immortal enemies’ go to die (normal people go to Hades).
(3) There was more to this, but it just went on and on and on and just became uninteresting so this is pretty much it. After this, Tira decides she’ll leave the battle to the Birds of Passage and pursue her own vendetta. She keeps the Ixion as a memento, a way to remember Mia.
Discord, Disquiet, Despair
Step. Step. Step. Pivot, raise, drop, shield, step back.
Tira of the Birds of Passage repeated the drill over and over under the watchful eyes of the Master, she who had mastered the Dance of Death when she was five. Tira looked up to her like a sister- a mother, even- regardless of how many days she made Tira repeat the drill until her arms felt like feeble lengths of string.
Step.
Tira slid her right foot forward slowly, inching toward an invisible target.
Step.
Another slide forward. Tira’s hands gripped the Aiselne Drossel until her knuckles were a smart white.
Step.
A third slide forward, and she began to slowly raise the weapon.
Pivot. Raise. Drop. Shield.
Fast as lightning she spun around on one foot, hoisting the ringblade one-handed into the air and let it slice through empty space with a tinny whistle as it moved, then twirled the inner circle around her arm and into a defensive stance, holding her weapon in front of herself.
Step back.
After a moment, she slid one foot back so she was back in her ‘ready’ stance.
“Good. Now do it again.”
Tira looked at the Master incredulously. That would make it the fifty-sixth time! “But Master--”
“Do it.” The Master, a middle-aged woman wearing a modified kimono and a stern frown, observed from a safe distance with her own ringblade in tow. “You wish to be considered a full member of our organization, yet you continuously fail this simple task. Again, and don’t make a sound,” she called in boredom.
Tira bowed at the waist and started the drill again until-
“I don’t want to hear your shoe scuffing the ground!” barked the voice of the almighty Master. “Perhaps I’m pushing you too hard. Go and have a drink, then come back here.”
Tira gratefully took her up on the offer. She headed to the Birds of Passage’s base camp and sought out a tankard of water. On the way she passed an older mercenary in the organization by the name of Mia. The girl always walked with an air of indifference that irritated the green leather-clad girl to no end.
Amethyst orbs narrowed as the silver –haired girl walked passed with her usual snobbish look in Tira’s direction. It was that same look Tira had received upon becoming a mercenary with the organization, one that made every muscle in her slight frame tense up.
In short, whenever Tira saw Mia, she wanted to kick her ass. Severely. The smug little wench deserved it, after all.
“Maybe, one day when you’ve become better than her I’ll give you a break from the training,” the Master said quietly from behind her, startling the girl.
“She isn’t good, she just sucks up. No offence intended, but she’s blinding you to her real ability. She’s awful,” Tira snapped. Now the Master was defending her biggest rival? Life wasn’t fair!
.::~::.
Training followed its usual boringly tedious routine for an hour or so, when Tira collapsed onto her hands and knees. The Master grudgingly took pity on the girl and gave her the remainder of the day off.
‘It’s a shame… with a prodigy like her…’ the Master thought with an inward sigh. Tira was, in fact, gifted in several ways, regardless of her small stature and young age. Much like herself when she was at that stage in life. ‘I am pushing her too hard…’
Tira came to see her later on. The girl had made a habit of showing gratitude to the Master for training her by making a short trip to the Master’s tent every evening before she retired to her own tent and spieling off a chain of thank-you’s and several other gracious accolades until the Master blushed with embarrassment and shooed her off to bed.
But for some reason… this meeting was different. Tira had show up with a half-grin that melted into a childish pout at the master’s first words.
“Mia isn’t your rival. Get that thought right out of your head,” the Master said sternly.
Tira scowled. “It was that obvious that I was considering that thought?” she muttered, immediately feeling awful. She was letting her anger blind her again. Last time that happened-
Well, she really didn’t want to think about that.
The Master raised a quizzical brow. “She is but four years older than you, and you’ve proven on countless occasions that you are the faster and more powerful of you two, so why the petty rivalry?” she asked quietly.
“I just don’t like her,” Tira replied matter-of-factly.
The Master sighed and rubbed a temple in exasperation. “In that case, you two will spar tomorrow. Wooden rings, no kicking-” Tira opened her mouth to argue, but the Master wouldn’t have any of it. “-and you will settle this once and for all, whether you like it or not. You two are the best of your age group, and who knows? We might have to send you on a mission together.”
Tira pouted again. “Huh, I guess it must get pretty tedious watching us play ‘Who’s the better assassin’ all the time…” she mumbled and scuffed the toe of her boot on the ground. After a moment she looked up at the Master, flashing her secret smile that only a scant few had ever seen. Ever. “Okay, I’ll try to get along with her, mama,” she said teasingly, enjoying the way her superior’s face twisted into a look of mingled confusion and mirth.
The Master snorted. “Don’t call me that.”
Of course, she meant the total opposite.
.::~::.
“So, you finally decided to show up,” the silver-haired assassin drawled from a tree branch. Mia had been sitting in that damn tree for nigh on an hour, and she’d hold Tira responsible if anything happened to her back because of it! Clad in a black leather bustier with intricate designs stitched in gold, black leather pants torn in areas and patched up with gold thread, much like Tira’s outfit, and a heavy belt encasing several small daggers and shuriken- she’d trained as a Fu-Ma kunoichi for a year before realizing there wasn’t much blood involved- she looked fairly dangerous. Like a demon, almost, because of the silver-white of her irises and hair.
Tira wondered if she was human at all.
“Well? Are we going to do this or what?” Mia demanded with a scowl of contempt.
“Alright, alright! Let’s get this over with,” Tira sighed, readying her wooden Aiselne Drossel. Mia matched her movements with a wooden version of the Ixion, her personal ringblade. Tira bounded forward without warning, grabbing the ‘sharp’ end of Mia’s ringblade and pulling it aside to reveal a clear shot- she brought her ringblade down swiftly, stopping only a hair’s breadth away from the older girl’s throat. “Huh, I told them you’re not that good!”
“You didn’t give me any warning!” Mia protested, indignant. “We can’t call this a spar when you’re using me as a stationary target!”
Tira backed off, going back into her guard position. “Fine, we’ll play fair. You won’t beat me, though.”
Several tied matches later, the two collapsed in tired, worn out heaps. Tira lay spread-eagled, allowing the first rays of moonlight to skim over her. “You’re not bad, now that I think about it,” she said to her opponent tiredly.
“Same to you,” Mia replied with a lopsided grin. Then she looked thoughtful for a moment. “Why do we fight all the time?” she asked quietly.
Tira stared heavenward. “I don’t know. We just do, I guess.”
It was a while before Mia spoke again. “They’re sending us on a mission soon,” she announced, sitting up. “...Could be fun.”
“Sure,” Tira agreed. “That makes us both full members, then?”
Mia grinned. “Duncha know it.”
.::~::.
“This is bad… bad, bad, bad…” The Master muttered vehemently as she paced her tent in a frenzy. The Birds Of Passage’s biggest rival organization, a group of thugs that marched under the name ‘Death Strikers’ had declared war on them, sending wave after wave of big ugly brutes with axes and clubs (and no noticeable traces of stealthiness and finesse) to attack members amongst their ranks.
It had gotten to the point that the Master’s Second-in-Command, a tall, muscular fellow named Tartaros, had dispatched the most elite members of the Passage to fend off the barbarians.
So it had come down to one decision- the Master was now forced to send Tira and Mia to defend what was left.
The Master dashed from her tent and stood in the cool evening air. “Tira! Mia!” she bellowed with just a hint of fright and worry for the two girls. What was she about to put them through?
Moments later Tira and Mia emerged from their tents and stood half-asleep in front of the Master. “What’s wrong?” Tira asked, rubbing sleep from her eye and yawning loudly.
The Master hesitated for a fraction of a second. “You two are needed now. More and more of the Strikers are appearing.”
Mia leaned over to Tira and whispered, “I told you so.”
Tira poked her tongue out. “So we’re the last resort, then?” she demanded with an edge in her tone. “You’ve already sent out everyone else, so you need us ‘little kids’ to finish the job?” She turned to Mia with a smirk. “We can send them running home to their ma’s, can’t we?”
“Short of making them wet their pants, yeah,” Mia agreed with restrained enthusiasm.
The Master looked at them oddly. “Ready yourselves. You leave in an hour.” She turned to walk away but stopped after a few steps. Looking over her shoulder, she looked at the two sadly. “Remember to watch over each other. It’s going to be dangerous, and I want my two favorite pupils to return safe, you hear me?” And with that, she left.
.::~::.
Neither of them knew where they were, but wherever it was, it was dark, rank and a little evil-looking. Tira cast a wary eye over their surroundings, regarding it with a look of distaste. “I hate it here already.”
Mia raised a brow at that but kept quiet. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up now- she couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was someone watching them.
And, knowing their luck, there were at least two dozen Strikers hiding in the darkness, waiting to pounce.
Life really wasn’t fair!
Tira readied her Aiselne Drossel, and Mia clutched her Ixion. The two stood back to back, waiting for the Striker bastards to show their ugly faces. They anticipated a long, tedious battle.
What they didn’t see coming was the massive group- half of the brutes- to jump on them with the ornately designed blades they all carried.
The battle was, in fact, long and tedious, full of blocks, parries and strikes that only just missed on both sides.
“Come on, you fools! Let’s see how strong you really are!” Mia crowed, smirking at the Strikers tauntingly. Apparently, the Strikers didn’t like that much at all.
“Dammit, Mia, you’re gonna get yourself killed!” Tira groused, slicing another enemy in half with very little effort. With a graceful twirl, she executed another three men before glaring at the remaining five. “I take that back,” she murmured. Addressing the Strikers, she called, “So, do you want us to prolong your suffering, or would you prefer us to end your pathetic, worthless lives now?”
“I’m not waiting. Let’s finish this!” Mia growled, charging without even looking around. She could see four of the men…
Wait, weren’t there five?
Tira looked on in horror. “Mia, behi-”
The fifth came from nowhere, pushing his blade into Mia’s back, right through her heart. Mia gaped wonderingly, frozen.
‘It wasn’t supposed to end like this!’
“YOU BASTARD! YOU STUPID, STUPID BASTARD! I’LL KILL YOU!” Tira screamed, letting a new wave of bloodlust overcome her. She moved on auto-pilot, slicing here and there with precise cuts, dealing heavy slashes to the final five Strikers. As each of them fell, Tira’s resolve wavered a little until they were dead, and she was left on her hands and knees, panting for breath. She looked at her fallen comrade.
Mia was lifeless, bathed in a pool of her own blood. It was almost funny, really, how dark her blood was, Tira realized. After staring for a moment, she hooped the Ixion over her arm with her Aiselne Drossel, and picked the other girl up. She’d died a hero’s death, so she deserved a hero’s burial.
Outside was cool and dark. Finding a small ditch, Tira gently placed Mia’s body down and covered it with what little grass and dirt she could find. She followed with a moment of silence, and before the tears that threatened to fall overwhelmed her, she walked away.
Nobody murdered a comrade of hers like that. Tira’s blood boiled with fresh anger. The Strikers would pay dearly for her loss.
‘This isn’t my fight…’ she sighed in her mind. ‘I’ll get my revenge, and the Passage can take care of the rest. I’m done with this!’
.::~::.
It became known that a fallen angel in green walked the land, destroying anyone who even thought of defying her. Such was her anger that she never thought twice. It became her goal to find someone with blood as dark as Mia’s- someone equally matched in ability for her to relate to. But no matter how long she searched, there was never anyone who could replace the older girl. It had taken Tira a year after Mia’s death to realize that the older girl had been a friend- her best and only friend, in reality. It fueled her inner rage even more.
Nobody killed her friends in front of her. Or else.
The End
Notes
(1) Discord/Disquiet – Both the titles of songs from the Final Fantasy X-2 Soundtrack, played when engaged in the many various battles against Vegnagun and Shuyin. Despair was just added in for the hell of it.
(2) Tartaros – An entity of ancient Greek mythology. Born a son to the Creator, he lived to become the living underworld, ‘where mortal sinners and immortal enemies’ go to die (normal people go to Hades).
(3) There was more to this, but it just went on and on and on and just became uninteresting so this is pretty much it. After this, Tira decides she’ll leave the battle to the Birds of Passage and pursue her own vendetta. She keeps the Ixion as a memento, a way to remember Mia.