[The Beast falls silent, his hands steeple together, bluish motes of light wreathing his head, curling back into the shape of branch-like antlers, but never fully forming, due to the absence of the Authority.

A small flicker of relief shines in the hollow of his torso - that Moriarty resisted the siren call of unity and the desire to rain their brand of affection upon the children called humans.]

Even if We may perish one day, I have to extend my hands to them, Even if the children will turn on us - we cannot help but want to teach them everything.

[The placid serenity shifts, the smile widening unnaturally so, yet the voice remains still]

Once we give them that final gift of ours - then I am happy to perish at their hands, content in knowing that they are safe.