[ It's cold comfort to know that their surroundings are as foreign to him as they are to her, something she tucks away for further examination later. The few she can see about look similarly confused and lost, and so perhaps this is something they all share in common. And there is possibly more to it than that.

His question rattles around in her ribcage uncomfortably, too close, too knowing. It sparks something defensive within her, hackles raising, and she flits around in her thoughts to think of what she can say to counteract that. What name will she take, what face will she wear, what lie can she tell to save face? Who can she pretend to be? (A better thought: what need does she have to be anyone but herself if her home is lost forever? If there is nothing left, then what does she have to hide?)

A slow breath is his first answer. Then: ] I don't know what else to feel. [ It's honest even if it's a little bit of a deflection. ] There is only the edge and there is nothing to turn back towards. Why bother panicking and losing control over what little you have? [ And after all she's seen, there's an eerie familiarity to it, like an old cloak worn through.

She cants her head, though, realizing... The end. Did he also--? ] I don't see anything marvelous about it, though. What are you hoping to see, if this is the end?