*
Has a dream ended? Where does one start and another end? The boundary is fuzzy, rather than a wall stopping people from going beyond it's more akin to one's inherent limitations. Your legs grow heavy and you cannot venture forth, that's the limitation binding the soul.
The only way to surmount it is to break those limitations, and yet those limitations are also one's own nature, break one's own soul and the limitations are overcome as a side effect. Fortunately, Lastia can thank her lucky stars that she had ever reliable comrades that would pull her back up if she were to slip into the abyss.
Her room focused into her sight with clarity, faint droplets nearly imperceptible evaporate into the air, leaving behind a sticky residue. Did she cry in her sleep? Perhaps there were ways to find out whether she had that same dream or not, such as consulting a specialist on dreams. Relying on the supernatural... Certainly no modern person would recommend such an approach.
The problem was that if she were to look for outside help, it would alert Arin. Not to mention Arin could do the same and try to stop her.
'... Sorry. Even if I were to disappear, I'm not sure if I could do it any other way.' (Lastia)
Who is this Lastia? Who is the person ruminating over matters related to her dream? Lastia found it difficult to trust in herself, to believe that she was the genuine article. She was resurrected from the dead, the fact that the resurrection was successful meant that the world's laws were deceived in some manner. Laws are difficult to 'deceive', often if anyone could achieve such a feat, it would be closer to a loophole. In other words, if she wasn't the real Lastia but a homonculus with her memories, then no laws were violated to begin with.
Sariel assured her via the effect of her second skill, {Sorrows of a beloved maiden} that such a convoluted result was impossible, that the Lastia here was the most authentic an article could be. Being told about it and believing in it sincerely... Was ultimately different. When the heart wavers in a dark place, it's hard to look at anything objectively, when everything is coated in her own colour.
Even if she was aware of her conundrum, it doesn't make it any easier for her to cope. Just because a person is aware that they're depressed, didn't meant they could easily get better. Naturally her own issue was far more... Strange. The Lastia that was born amidst the curse, the blank slate that retained a smidgen of personality form the body's lived experiences. The Lastia before the curse took root, the absolute most ordinary girl who hadn't trifled with mystics. The Lastia at the end of it all that managed to carve her own destiny out of her dreaded circumstances, the one who chose the name Giselle after rebelling against the world tree that verified the proof of existence.
Which her was the real her? Which was the one standing here and now? She mulled over it, chewing over the thought at a sluggish pace that was unusual. Her mind dwelled over the intricacies of the details but raised both arms, ceding that there was never enough proof to conclude anything conclusive... That there was never any amount of evidence sufficient to quell her anxieties.
"... Another day... New possibilities." (Lastia)
Perhaps the lack of conflict, was precisely the situation that made her feel like her possibilities are slipping through her fingers. What shall she do when she retires as a magical girl? A part time job? Maybe her studies can pull through, and she'll find some full time passion... Whose future is she deciding? Naturally she has to make a decision for 'Lastia' eventually.
... Arin, her light was the only way out of the darkness, but she was also the enemy. They have achieved peace with their own hardwork, yet it never felt real, never felt earned. As if... Lastia was accustomed to being tormented by reality. Nothing was going to feel as real as the times she was in battle, as the time she transformed as a magical girl, as the time she felt like she saved someone by vanquishing monsters... Right, the hallmark of every Lastia was their memories, that's what differentiated all of them. So... Who is this Lastia who had her memories from birth to present?
Was it the same person Sariel chose to protect? The person who made a wish to Arin? Someone who survived that maelstrom of events, a hypothetical existence that contained every memory made by the Lastia of the abundance era... A creation of fiction, the possibility is certainly there. The real Lastia was never meant to survive past her first year of highschool, fate conferred upon her an oblivion and that she was meant to sustain. So, is that it? A totally new Lastia was born to fight Eterna, one to never match the original or the others, one born with the progress and effort borne by her predecessors..
"... OIII! It's morning, sleepyhead! How long are you going to sleep!!" (Arin)
With a violent bash the door swings at maximum velocity, she subtly wonders how much more the hinges could endure. One ray of sunshine peaks into the room, defiant eyes and smug wavy lips creased at the edge of her cheeks. The world lights up, growing a faint yellow tint as the sun breathed life into every corner. As if a flash of inspiration hit, she flinched for a moment before walking closer to Lastia's side whom had been sitting for a while now.
"...? Have you been over thinking again? You've been doing this almost everyday, don't think you can hide anything. You used to do this back then too, if it weren't for me you would have missed a ton of lessons last year too!" (Arin)
Overthinking it...? Was she so obvious. Then... She reaches her hand out to Arin at chest level and Arin grabs it, pulling it to her cheek. It was warmth that permeated her skin and sunk into her palm, undeniable proof that she was alive. She felt conscious, in control, she could feel the air caressing her throat and filling her lungs. Her skin also felt stiff and discomforting around her cheeks. Was she crying just now? She couldn't remember actually crying, so why had these tears been spilt?
Another day, another dream forgotten.