[ One step at a time. She watches Waltaquin's expression with a strange sense of serenity settling over her again. Even she doesn't know if she's just been hollowed out, or if this is peace, but the crushing pressure has finally eased its grip on her throat.

She has direction. She can do this. She gives Waltaquin a little nod. ]

I don't know that I'm precise enough with my healing for that. I can try. Otherwise... I may have to ask Doctor Baizhu. I can think of a reasonable excuse.

[ Really, if Baizhu has something that would settle nerves, it would hardly need to be excused at this point. Psyche squeezes Waltaquin's fingers in hers briefly — and when Waltaquin pulls away, she lets her go easily.

Practice already, perhaps.

But she gets to her feet to follow unhurriedly, staring out at the ocean and Waltaquin, adrift. It's the only conversation she'd ever had with Nona, isn't it? That she loved the ocean. She kicks off her sandals and walks into the waves, knowing it for an empty gesture even as she does it. But empty doesn't mean pointless. With a quiet sigh she lets herself fall back to float near Waltaquin. Not touching, though in her imagination, the ripple of the waves carries something intangible between them. ]

...Her, and not me? [ Is it even possible that there's a smile in her voice now? Even she couldn't explain it, any more than Waltaquin could explain the earlier tears. ] I promise. And... I think she'll understand.