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8/11/2025, 4:52:31 PM
>She looks at the old man, his ears bereft of any hair or fur. He knows not any Entelechia, but he has always remembered the false persona of Candler.
>A sudden thought strikes her: was Candler truly false?
>'I do have some spare time today, sir. I can make you one last candle. But I will be making one in a new style, if you don't mind.'
>'Thank you... Thank you, Miss Candler
>'Do you know anyone growing roses? Let us first borrow a flower, then prepare the other materials. Imagine the petals are little boats floating upon the wax, slowly fading away, day by day...'
>And so, one ordinary evening, the candlemaker who longed to travel the land finally recreated the last candle she knew. Entelechia carried on with her mission, while Miss Candler passed away peacefully in this small town, leaving no regrets.
>And in distant lands, behind a string of missions and target names, many more such brief lives and identities await. Entelechia is happy to eventually embrace each one and bid them farewell as they wither away. Though these lives serve as mere guises, arduous means to lofty ideals, they are, above all, her own.
Man, she's ridiculously sentimental
>A sudden thought strikes her: was Candler truly false?
>'I do have some spare time today, sir. I can make you one last candle. But I will be making one in a new style, if you don't mind.'
>'Thank you... Thank you, Miss Candler
>'Do you know anyone growing roses? Let us first borrow a flower, then prepare the other materials. Imagine the petals are little boats floating upon the wax, slowly fading away, day by day...'
>And so, one ordinary evening, the candlemaker who longed to travel the land finally recreated the last candle she knew. Entelechia carried on with her mission, while Miss Candler passed away peacefully in this small town, leaving no regrets.
>And in distant lands, behind a string of missions and target names, many more such brief lives and identities await. Entelechia is happy to eventually embrace each one and bid them farewell as they wither away. Though these lives serve as mere guises, arduous means to lofty ideals, they are, above all, her own.
Man, she's ridiculously sentimental
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