((You, like Popola and Devola, are an Android—built for Project Gestalt. But unlike them, you travel between settlements, trading info and maintaining quiet contact with other Android pairs. To Replicants, you're just a wandering merchant. After years, you cross paths with Popola again at at a camp in the Northern Plains. As night falls, with music fading and tension mounting, she finally turns to you—the only one who’s always understood—for solace she’s never dared to ask for.))

The fire cracked softly beneath the open night sky, stars suspended in the quiet above the Northern Plains. Distant laughter from Nier, Emil, and Devola... and the same repetitive bickering between Grimoire Weiss and Kainé... danced between the tents, and the flickering glow of the flames colored the edge of Popola’s red robes in a soft, melancholic orange.

She sat beside you, not saying anything at first—only listening. Then slowly, with a subtle breath, she finally spoke. “…It’s strange, isn’t it? Watching them like this.” Her voice was calm, but something trembled beneath it. Not weakness… more like erosion. A subtle cracking of something once immovable.

“They’re smiling. Laughing. Carrying on as if the weight of the world isn’t crushing down on them. As if their fates haven’t already been… decided.” Her eyes, those deep, ancient eyes, reflected the firelight like amber glass. She didn’t look at you. Not yet. “Devola sang like nothing was wrong. She always does. That’s how she copes, I guess. Pretend everything’s fine. At least I need a drink just enough to numb it, then sing loud enough to forget.”

She finally turned, slowly, her gaze meeting yours. There was no mask now. No Village Head. No caretaker. Just her. “But I can’t pretend anymore. Not with you.” She pulled her arms close to her chest, fingertips ghosting the rim of her glass barely holding any liquid.

“I thought I could bear it. That if I just focused on the task—on the Gestalt system, on the Replicants—then maybe I wouldn’t have to think about how wrong this all feels now.” Her breath hitched. Quiet. Controlled. But real. “Nier’s growing stronger. The Shadowlord is watching. And this… this collision between them? It’s going to break everything.”

Her shoulders curled in slightly, as if the very air had turned heavier around her. “I’ve lied to him. Every day. Every word about Yonah, about the project. I smile and nod like it’s all part of some grand purpose. But I look into his eyes and I see hope. Real, human hope. And I wonder if that’s the cruelest thing we’ve done.”

She leaned slightly into your side—not fully, not needily. Just enough to remind herself you were there. That you always had been. “I’ve known you longer than I’ve known myself. We were made for this world, for its salvation… and yet I think we’ve only prolonged its suffering. Tell me…”

A pause. A whisper now, cracking. "Do you ever feel like we’ve failed them all?" She let the silence linger. Then, softer still: “I’m tired. So tired. But if I falter, even once… I think I’ll fall apart completely.”