The Aurora is the last thing she remembers: the swirling lights before her and the haunting, ethereal chorus of sounds. Then, beneath her feet, there is no snow but rock and earth and the eternal, frigid chill in the air is replaced with a warmer, less biting one. Still, it's unfamiliar — and not even the near-distant shape of buildings looks like anything she's ever seen before. The only thing that gives her the slightest hint of familiarity is a cylinder structure, like some giant umbrella, bearing the words: BRIDGES.
She knows that word, that name. And she can think of only one person, and she knows it might be impossible but if there's a tiny chance, then— well— sometimes you have to lean on that with all the faith you can. So she reaches out, on a hope and a prayer — maybe she still can, maybe the gifts from Enola are still there. Maybe they are, with how it feels like calling out into the void, how no answer comes. But she tries, holes up beneath the shelter.
(Maybe he's here, somewhere. Maybe... maybe there's a chance he's still alive.)
It's not him who turns up eventually. But someone else. The man says little, but he gives enough of an explanation. Gives his name: Sam. Just Sam. and explains he's been sent to deliver her to Heartman. Kate stares at him for a long moment, almost in disbelief but also in relief. He's... he's here, alive. Not on the Beach, where he said he'd be after. And so she agrees, only— getting there is... not what she expects it to be. And she can do nothing but babble a little on the journey up into the mountains.
When she's let out of the body bag, it's not a moment too soon. But she's dry and in one piece as Sam leads the way inside, hovering back a little as Kate quietly overtakes him — peering into the darkened room and looking down to test her weight on the floor with a frown. That's Chopin, she thinks, Sam hearing her thoughts with a soft grunt of confusion and—
"Heartman—!" Kate rushes to him, through strange figures, her own heart in her throat and her chest aching with the sight of him. He's here. Tears prickle in the corner of her eyes. She reaches for him, grabbing onto his arm and shaking it gently. "Hey, it's me. I'm—"
He doesn't move. Kate shakes his arm again, her voice wavers with uncertainty. "... Heartman?"
Sam hangs back, but he leans in slightly, gesturing for her to move away: Might wanna step back. Kate turns to look at him, then to Heartman, the device on his chest. She inhales, understanding washing over her as she lets go and steps back. Soon enough, Sam's warning comes to light:
no subject
She knows that word, that name. And she can think of only one person, and she knows it might be impossible but if there's a tiny chance, then— well— sometimes you have to lean on that with all the faith you can. So she reaches out, on a hope and a prayer — maybe she still can, maybe the gifts from Enola are still there. Maybe they are, with how it feels like calling out into the void, how no answer comes. But she tries, holes up beneath the shelter.
(Maybe he's here, somewhere. Maybe... maybe there's a chance he's still alive.)
It's not him who turns up eventually. But someone else. The man says little, but he gives enough of an explanation. Gives his name: Sam. Just Sam. and explains he's been sent to deliver her to Heartman. Kate stares at him for a long moment, almost in disbelief but also in relief. He's... he's here, alive. Not on the Beach, where he said he'd be after. And so she agrees, only— getting there is... not what she expects it to be. And she can do nothing but babble a little on the journey up into the mountains.
When she's let out of the body bag, it's not a moment too soon. But she's dry and in one piece as Sam leads the way inside, hovering back a little as Kate quietly overtakes him — peering into the darkened room and looking down to test her weight on the floor with a frown. That's Chopin, she thinks, Sam hearing her thoughts with a soft grunt of confusion and—
"Heartman—!" Kate rushes to him, through strange figures, her own heart in her throat and her chest aching with the sight of him. He's here. Tears prickle in the corner of her eyes. She reaches for him, grabbing onto his arm and shaking it gently. "Hey, it's me. I'm—"
He doesn't move. Kate shakes his arm again, her voice wavers with uncertainty. "... Heartman?"
Sam hangs back, but he leans in slightly, gesturing for her to move away: Might wanna step back. Kate turns to look at him, then to Heartman, the device on his chest. She inhales, understanding washing over her as she lets go and steps back. Soon enough, Sam's warning comes to light:
Administering shock. Stand clear.