Balance nodded, and waited for the music to finish. After it was done, and Folorian was paying attention, he set the small cube down at a table and bushed the one button on it. There was a slightly scratchy sound, like a record player being set up, and the recording began to play. A haunting melody issued from it, the notes and words in a tongue that Balance remembered well from his childhood, but doubted anyone else would know. The song was simultaneously hopeful and sad, and reverberated in his every molecule. The tune seemed to convey, even without the words, that it was possible to find peace, even when others were dead. It was the last remnant he had from his home. Tears streamed down his face from his living-gold eyes as he recalled the past.
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