[They can't do much more than be there. Than ensure that she doesn't have to be alone as she lives this. Her smile approximates a grimace far more than it does something genuinely happy, even mournfully so. They squeeze back, a faint press of fingers around hers, a reassuring pulse of pressure.]
[I'm here.]
[Back they go, then, into the bleached, pristine walls and the grim, foreboding air befitting that of a tomb. Maybe because, for the moment, everyone there knows that it soon will be.]
[They shouldn't speak at all. But it bubbles up regardless.]
no subject
[I'm here.]
[Back they go, then, into the bleached, pristine walls and the grim, foreboding air befitting that of a tomb. Maybe because, for the moment, everyone there knows that it soon will be.]
[They shouldn't speak at all. But it bubbles up regardless.]
It's quiet.