When she wanders into the edge of this dreaming imagery, she finds it oddly familiar, and rolls the "taste" of it through her mind until it matches the same currents as what she'd seen when she fortune-told for Klaus.

Her expression betrays only a hint of melancholy before it smooths out to the more serene mask she wears when dealing with things of a spiritual nature. She pads through the rubble, overlaid with scents of of blood and harsh flashes of sterile bleached walls, following the clanking of the chains, her head cocked to hear better.

Seeing the blurring of foliage at the edges of this dream does little to reassure her, nor do the snatches of birdsong making an eerie cadence with the clash of chains.

While she is not at all familiar with the Dreaming Sickness, she is familiar with intrusive realities overlapping at times, so she simply keeps her eyes open for the center of the visions.

She eventually comes to recognize the giant figure of Klaus, and she steps past the shifting imagery to place her fingertips against his scarred hand, much as she had when she scried for him. She doesn't speak, but simply allows her presence to be a quiet fulcrum if he needs it.