Each day from within the halls of Dies Irae, a melody would be played. This melody would change by the day, but each carried a light tune of hope and want. Each tune bore the weight of so many people's worries and let them float into the aether. Not many of the stronger members of Dies Irae would take part in listening to Illya's songs, whether they be by piano or by violin or harp or any other instrument, but it seemed as though some of the lesser employees and Neophytes appreciated the work of the God Slayer. She was no good in a fight. She was weak. She did not know how to hurt someone that could fight back. She couldn't beat anyone up herself. There was no way. But at the very least, she could share her music with the world.
Today was once more one of those days, where Illya, tired and stressed from trying to improve her magical capabilities, de-stressed through the medium of song, peacefully plucking away at a harp as she sang a somber, quiet song, as if it were a lullaby. Yemaya had taken flight to search for information on a festival Illya had been asked to take part in, leaving the God Slayer by herself and her music that filled the air, calming the swaying Neophytes and employees. Finishing the last note of her song, ending with a graceful fade into the aether, letting the troubles of the day disappear into cloud and dust to be swept away somewhere else, she heard an unfamiliar voice. It must have been someone new. She recognized voices easily and quickly, yet this was a new voice that she had not heard before, and it came from the entrance to the Throne Room. Bowing to her tired, yet applauding, audience, she left her harp upon her makeshift stage of wooden crates and dashed towards the entryway.
Standing at the entryway was precisely what Illya had expected: someone new. He was a somewhat serious-looking, slightly tan man with a shaggy mane of black. A mild look of contentment sat upon his face as his eyes wandered around the room absently, the mixture of his casual eyes and the hands within his pockets giving a carefree, admiring attitude to his demeanor. "Hiya!" Illya said, quickly walking as she approached. Luckily for her, she was wearing one of the uniforms for once. They were a foreign thing for her, more designed for business than for the sake of fashion, though they certainly had a flair of elegance about them. "Welcome to Dies Irae! My name's Illya Pegasus, and how about you? Are you looking to join? We're always accepting new members! Don't worry, you'll fit right in, I'm sure! If I can fit in, I bet you can too, so you should have no problems at all! We accept people from all walks of life, young, old, tall, small, weak, strong...if you've got a passion for justice, then we can fit riiight in! Well, at least, that's how I see it. You'd probably have to ask Miss West or Mister von Weiss about some of the more intricate matters. I'm a bit new here myself, as well. Well, obviously not as new as you, but I...well, you get the point." She laughed slightly. "Right! Focus, Illya! So, what's your name, friend? Again, I'm Illya Pegasus, and I'm already sure it's a pleasure to meet you!" She bowed, holding her hands closely to her side and clutching onto the hem of her short skirt to ensure that it did not reveal too much. She still could not get used to these strange military uniforms. They were much less comfortable than the dresses Illya usually wore, and much less accommodating to her preferred shoes or her headphones. She looked back up and smiled, flaring her hands at her side as she waited for the man's response.