[What remains of Iskierka parts like a rent veil as Lycka rejoins her Sleeper; what remains of the vision of another space-that-isn't-space comes apart at the seams and the wing-roots. Fluttering bits of locust fritter away into the dark and the cold between dreams, and all's still and silent for a moment.
Then from glitter and milk-white traces of torn pneuma, Iskierka reforms in her accustomed shape. Nothing comes with her--a profound and echoing nothing, a transmission cut short. Her Sleeper is nothing, experiencing nothing, and for a moment she is here by herself.
She drifts to L and Lycka on feather-and-scale wings, not bothering to beat them, and bumps gently into the pair to ascertain their reality.
safe. she expresses to them both; the lift of her antennae make it a question.]
no subject
Then from glitter and milk-white traces of torn pneuma, Iskierka reforms in her accustomed shape. Nothing comes with her--a profound and echoing nothing, a transmission cut short. Her Sleeper is nothing, experiencing nothing, and for a moment she is here by herself.
She drifts to L and Lycka on feather-and-scale wings, not bothering to beat them, and bumps gently into the pair to ascertain their reality.
safe. she expresses to them both; the lift of her antennae make it a question.]