It's Mailtime (Open)

[Ada Wong]

But... what's this? Rainbow glimmers flutter across her vision like ultra-saturated and softened fireworks, a gentle lull inviting her to return to someplace bright, and golden, and wonderful where no concerns about daring demonic associates are to be found.

Puzzlement trickling languidly through her mind as if through sleep, the Peregrine Mendicant looks down at her limbs, which have begun to glow with a strange ephemerally-shining light. For some odd reason she does not feel especially concerned about this, and yet… Oh. Oh dear.

She looks up at the wizard boy and the abnormal bird, suddenly in a panic. The mail! How will it ever be delivered now! This light is remarkably similar to the summoning of Omnilium that she had utilized earlier, surely she isn’t—?

But alas, she is. There is only so much time left and she must act quickly, lest she disappear entirely. As she drops her mailbag onto the sand and starts to hurriedly fish around in it, PM watches as her Regisword breaks down and fades away into raw Omnilium, the black sword simply breaking apart into her palms. A sense of renewed urgency rises up in her chest, burgeoning and raw.

At last, her claws latch onto the envelope that is destined for the hands of Demetri Malius. She carries it reverently, as how one would hold a babe, and stumbles unsteadily to her feet. For some reason, the world is spinning lackadaisically around her and she is finding it difficult to stand. Through sheer determination alone, however, she manages it, and seizes onto the wrist of the wizard boy. She gently tucks the letter into his hand.

Here, she speaks into his mind, and then the crow’s as well, because what does it matter if the bird can hear? This letter is for Demetri Malius, and I must ask that you deliver it to him. May Skaia’s light guide you in this noblest of endeavors, Lord of Light and Prince of Mind.

Peregrine stumbles back then, her kind dark eyes crinkling up at the corners as the boy’s fingers reluctantly wrap around the envelope’s fold. Her shell is glinting with spiraling whorls of kaleidoscopic light, a brightness which increasingly builds and builds, by leaps and bounds and half-skips until PM simply decides to shut her eyes.

Then, nothing at all.