She didn’t like silence.

She never had. The other shrine maidens always commented on it, saying it was odd – after all, she was always quiet. Even her smiles and facial expressions came off as quiet and serene.

But silence to her was death. Even while meditating – anywhere – there was no silence. Not even meditating in front of the Great Fire. Especially not meditating in front of the Great Fire.

Fire crackled and shivered, throwing ghostly shadows all over the dark walls.

But it was never silent in there. There was white noise.

People would walk into the room and comment how silent it was – it wasn’t. There was noise, but it was soothing. Calming.

White.

It was one reason why she loved Sorata.

He was never silent. He was always so loud, boisterous.

And he snored while he was sleeping, but that was a whole ‘nother story.

It was just another example of the fact that he was not silent.

He didn’t represent silence – he didn’t represent death. No matter what his destiny was, he didn’t seem like he was going to die young.

To her, he represented life. Love and joy and beauty and sound in one package that was meant for her, only for her.

She loved him so much.

She was only lucky that he loved her.

And he made her realize…

The silence needed the noise, and the noise needed the silence.

It cheered her, and she meditated silently, with life on her mind.