Before you stood an idol, her diminutive stature belying an ineffable antiquity that eclipses the transient rhythm of mortal life. Her rosy pupils lingers on the curtains, emanating a listless glow bereft of any discernible expression.

"Meet me after the concert."

Patchouli, ensconced amidst the embrace of spotlights and applause, graced the stage. She was the centerpiece of the concert—an incandescent luminaire that shone against the pervasive malaise of an uncaring world.