After a few moments of the students investigating and the weft and weave of ambient sound veils the space around White Chain, there's a deliberate CRUNCH as one of the skulls littering the plaza nearby is crushed under a heeled shoe fashioned out of a large-caliber pistol.

White Chain probably already knew she was there. That wasn't the point, really.

"No matter where you go, you find parables like this." Cereza sighs. "Falls from grace, the tower crumbling, Icarus falling into the ocean... It gets a little monotonous after a while. They've really gone all out with this particular set piece, however, real bones and everything."

That's supposed to be a greeting. Sort of.