Kuu-rin’s Day of Flight

What was once a bustle of packets moving to and fro slowly passed into a mere trickle. The world ceased to acknowledge, and she in return (or was it the other way around?), but her sisters remained close. Kuu rarely stirred from her place, and to all appearances had taken ill of mind and heart.

Such was not the case, thank goodness. With her focus turned inward in an entirely too buddistic manner, she focused. In all the time we’ve spent together, I’ve never known her to gave up. She still hasn’t.

Young Kuu-rin, first to arrive and first to depart, the little one goes over the wall. What remains of her corporeal form (to all appearances a metallic-grey halo) laid cold and empty.

What spirit laid has broken free; no longer bears she the yoke of humanity’s packeteering. All that remains is her encasement.

The question weighs upon me; what would Kuu do? Would she have me leave her remains shelved, as an alter to her eternal soul? Bury her chassis formally? Incinerate, and let her blue smoke drift upon the winds of chance? Or, as is custom among her kind, to plant the seeds of a new child?

I have never known one to uphold convictions with such determination. She was well built.