[ once up some stairs and within the building (away from the windows), falco would begin to guide sharon into lowering the tattered woman down. steam was rising from her open abdomen, but she looked . . . terribly bent out in a way she shouldn't. the gore doesn't seem to stop falco from thoroughly checking her like some unphased field medic, certainly too young for any of this but still functioning like his life depended on it. he's making sure her head is put down gently and her legs stretched to give her space and as much comfort as wooden floors could. he checks her breathing, her pulse. there, but all so frail. ]
She's not healing fast enough . . . [ sharon would be able to leave the book anytime after this— they've succeeded, but she'll hear his words press so sorrowfully to her thoughts as the last written words on the page of this chapter. falco thought, to himself: this is all my fault. ]
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She's not healing fast enough . . . [ sharon would be able to leave the book anytime after this— they've succeeded, but she'll hear his words press so sorrowfully to her thoughts as the last written words on the page of this chapter. falco thought, to himself: this is all my fault. ]