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><center>\.the dappled filla shrugs./ <i>Weave a >spell? Over me? And Dad? If he loved Cymbra as much >as you say he did, then do you really think that he >couldn't have handled himself? And me? I'm not a >baby, Misa. I can handle myself too. I'm capable. >I'm independent. </i>\.she pauses, ice taking over >the fire of anger in her voice./ <i>And how could I >not be independent? With you and Cymbra always gone. >And Dad was never around either. And now, he might as >well not be here, for all that he recognizes us all. ></i>\.her voice is calm, quiet and collected. her >eyes are dark, veiled and blank. not at all like a >filla of three./</center>

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