(Lemm is scanning their words with a fierce intensity, when they're afforded to him. This is not about him. But they get a nod - silent and from the sidelines, but emphatic.)

Seer thinks of the gravity of the shadows she brushed up against. Of the uniform, and the not. They had not all felt the same, but they had been as one. Some things came easily, even as the nature of Void clouded her.

Vessels, plural. Old Light, Pale Light. Crimes of her tribe; crimes of the King.

Slowly, Seer rises to her feet. She trudges forward to close the small distance between them, and a hand emerges from beneath her wings, held out palm-up.