[ She's listening, during all of this. Partway through, she draws her knees up to her chest (she's back in her room, at this point) and leans against the headboard, digesting all of it. Trying to figure out what she wants to do next. She keeps coming to the same answer, and it frightens her.
She doesn't cry this time. Maybe she's cried herself out on this Barge. Maybe she's remaking herself into something that doesn't need tears. But it's resolve that rises inside her, not grief. ]
Show me.
[ Her voice is small on the first word and stronger on the second, out of balance. Her throat is dry. Heart pounding. She repeats: ] Come here and show me.
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She doesn't cry this time. Maybe she's cried herself out on this Barge. Maybe she's remaking herself into something that doesn't need tears. But it's resolve that rises inside her, not grief. ]
Show me.
[ Her voice is small on the first word and stronger on the second, out of balance. Her throat is dry. Heart pounding. She repeats: ] Come here and show me.
Pain shared is pain halved, right?
[ She means it. She means telepathy. ]