[Ryuko Sunder]

I have no sentiment to spare the moon, not this night, nor any other. Pale, fickle sovereign of the night, may you rot in your cold loneliness. So many dead, so many slain by my hand, and all for naught. If you would speak to me of destiny, I demand an answer to the blood, to the agony and slaughter. But there will be no answer, this I know. And thus, I must fashion my own.