Before he can manage to finish that thought aloud, there's no trace of her left; he's in his uniform, again, even, and in a matter of seconds it's almost as if she were only a dream, herself.
Except he isn't being shredded by those ugly things that'd been after him, before. He's safe (or safe enough), and when he turns toward the darkness in the tunnel to Modeoheim, he's sure he wouldn't have made it this far without that hand up. With that certainty in mind, he doesn't waste any time pushing himself to his feet again and moving on.
no subject
(...on?)
Before he can manage to finish that thought aloud, there's no trace of her left; he's in his uniform, again, even, and in a matter of seconds it's almost as if she were only a dream, herself.
Except he isn't being shredded by those ugly things that'd been after him, before. He's safe (or safe enough), and when he turns toward the darkness in the tunnel to Modeoheim, he's sure he wouldn't have made it this far without that hand up. With that certainty in mind, he doesn't waste any time pushing himself to his feet again and moving on.