Pursuit of the Sun 1.2

"Every day is a new life," as the rationalists might say, but for the individuals of the vile tribe, life was just one day, so the rest of the late evening and night, Tifa spends sitting on a stool, trying out different variations of string sounds by ear, based on what she saw during the day.
The sound of the instrument is quite limited in its range, and yet, as practice has shown, the order in which it is played, combined with what the eye observes, can play some role in the primitive, overwhelmed by base emotions, thinking center of the warm-blooded monkey, which it mistakenly calls its soul. Just as ants navigate by dance and scent, despite the alien and inaccessible nature of this method for bipedal creatures, remaining universally recognized as inferior beings, so too do humans follow their low-quality equivalents.

At the moment when the morning light in her room reaches fifteen percent with zero hundredths, Lady's eyes rise from the instrument, and her hands mechanically reach for cosmetics. Perhaps someday, industrialists will invent makeup that lasts until it is removed, but their current level leaves much to be desired – the entropy of matter does not allow makeup to last longer than a day, even on the most impassive face. Or maybe it was just the wrong climate.
After completing the ritual, she leaves her "dwelling" and, remembering that nothing particularly important is planned for today, leisurely heads towards the Stronghold in order to find a benefactor who has some voluntary tasks prepared.