[She nods, moving down the corridor without further commentary. The slabs, seemingly linked as if by some invisible hand, shift under Shiro's hand after her. They clearly require his guidance around corners and through narrowed doorways, but otherwise the slabs drift of their own volition as Cathaway leads the way slowly through the tangle of the Station.
Her step is slow, punctuated by an undeniable humming ache of bones and skin and her mind in her skull. But she's ignoring the exhaustion relatively well. She can pretend it doesn't exist even if it's sucking at her marrow.
There's no idle conversation, no small obligatory consolations. If he cares for ritual, let it be a silent one.]
no subject
Her step is slow, punctuated by an undeniable humming ache of bones and skin and her mind in her skull. But she's ignoring the exhaustion relatively well. She can pretend it doesn't exist even if it's sucking at her marrow.
There's no idle conversation, no small obligatory consolations. If he cares for ritual, let it be a silent one.]