Slowly, lulled by the soothing voice, the waters subside and drain away. The flood has passed, but what emerges from beneath the water is different--thoughts rearranged, put into new shapes, all molded by a soothing voice. Alexa closes her eyes, and presses her face against the wool once more. "Then… I don't know whether I can cross the rift, Dolce." She's all cried out, she thought. And yet, somehow, she can still feel more tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Your love--yours and Vasilia's. That's a living love. You're so different, but you fit together so well. More than that, you've built bridges where you [i]don't.[/i]" She squeezes extra hard--reassurance, the best way she knows how to give. You two will survive this. "But the love I have for myself… I love myself, now. Genuinely. But that's new. I'm better than I ever have been because of those choices. But the seed's only been planted. It needs time to grow. "And the love I have for others…" Carefully, she pulls one arm free of the wool, and pulls the battered scraps of pages towards herself. "There are people I love who. Who aren't around, anymore. If we make it back--if, miracle of miracles, we survive this, and come back across--then I. I still won't be able to make new memories with them. "The only place those loves can keep growing is on this side of the rift."