Marguerite comes back from her domain once the morning shines bright outside. She doesn't bother to talk to Áine. Her initial admiration and worship have long turned stale. Now she feels indifferent, maybe slightly grateful. In any case, she doesn't feel that they have much in common after all, besides her unending beauty, her tough composure and vast knowledge, she doesn't feel there is anything to admire her for. She was just mesmerized by the novelty of mystical creatures.
She knows Áine will leave her, but she doesn't care. She doesn't have any more use for her, Edward is nowhere to be found, Alphonse has been successfully satisfied and she is about to start her life with Armel. Who cares about the rest?
Marguerite walks up to the bathroom, she showers and prepares to go outside. The best thing she can hope for now is for all this to be over.
