She's about as tall as the man touching Gwen give or take a few inches and the two of them sort of sandwich her in the doorway, though she's nowhere near as close. Abby doesn't understand what she's looking at. The wet drip of blood is in her ears, but she can't smell the iron, it's confusing, and instinctively she wants to pull Gwen away. She wants to get her away from whatever got him.
She doesn't move. The man is holding her face like she's something very precious, and Abby thinks that she understands the nature of this illusion and what it means to do.
"Gwenaëlle." About as loud as the sound of weight shifting on blood-slick cobblestone, "We don't have time to stop."
He cannot stay, even if Gwen wants him to. They have to keep moving before they're lost to these memories.
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She's about as tall as the man touching Gwen give or take a few inches and the two of them sort of sandwich her in the doorway, though she's nowhere near as close. Abby doesn't understand what she's looking at. The wet drip of blood is in her ears, but she can't smell the iron, it's confusing, and instinctively she wants to pull Gwen away. She wants to get her away from whatever got him.
She doesn't move. The man is holding her face like she's something very precious, and Abby thinks that she understands the nature of this illusion and what it means to do.
"Gwenaëlle." About as loud as the sound of weight shifting on blood-slick cobblestone, "We don't have time to stop."
He cannot stay, even if Gwen wants him to. They have to keep moving before they're lost to these memories.