There were so many pawns. They all looked at their feet, shuffling awkwardly as the chilly November air battered their skin. It had been drizzling with freezing rain, but no pawn made a move towards the comfort of shelter. There was somebody important being honored this day. Fournival sobbed. He knew that the Arisen's love had been a gift from some forgotten God--nobody else could possibly have loved him so much or so well. Barnaby stared accusingly at Camellia. "You could bring him back," he whispered. "I know what you really are." Camellia sighed. "No, I could not. When you bring someone back from the dead you lose the best parts of themselves in the process. All that would come back was a sadistic husk." Barnaby turned away, uncomforted. "WHY?" His voice snapped at her, startingly human. For a moment Camellia forgot he was a pawn. It was a man standing beside her now, an angry man who wanted the universe to stop taking away those whom he cherished. "I don't know," Camellia confessed, looking down in shame.