Ilda sees Faias, and she’s surprised by the look of recognition on his face. So he’s seen her, too, somehow? The visions aren’t one-way?
But that concerns her only for a moment. More pressing is his overall state, and how it’s tugging at her heartstrings. She can almost feel his emotional and mental exhaustion, as if it’s her own.
She tries to make her way through the crowd, but everyone seems to want to talk to the survivors, to squeeze the juicy details of the mysterious happenings from out of them. Some sort of desperation begins to get to her; she has to reach him. “Excuse me... excuse me... please, I have to get through... I need to see Faias...” But nobody’s willing to give way, nobody wants to give her any space—
”Please let me through!”
Nothing happens for a moment. Then, with distant looks on their faces, some people step aside to make way for her.
She rushes through without second thought, and, with no sense of decorum or personal space whatsoever, she hugs Faias like a long-lost brother. “You’re alive,” she says, crying.
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But that concerns her only for a moment. More pressing is his overall state, and how it’s tugging at her heartstrings. She can almost feel his emotional and mental exhaustion, as if it’s her own.
She tries to make her way through the crowd, but everyone seems to want to talk to the survivors, to squeeze the juicy details of the mysterious happenings from out of them. Some sort of desperation begins to get to her; she has to reach him. “Excuse me... excuse me... please, I have to get through... I need to see Faias...” But nobody’s willing to give way, nobody wants to give her any space—
”Please let me through!”
Nothing happens for a moment. Then, with distant looks on their faces, some people step aside to make way for her.
She rushes through without second thought, and, with no sense of decorum or personal space whatsoever, she hugs Faias like a long-lost brother. “You’re alive,” she says, crying.