[ it's pathetic, she thinks. beau, who was one such a strong young woman in the old brilith's eyes, reduced to this heap of emotions, and trying so desperately to escape them. everyone has their breaking point, but she can't help but wonder - how could beau fold so completely, knowing full well what could happen at any moment?

but there's a current of pity boiling just below the surface, bringing with it a surge of sympathy that brilith can't ignore. this body... its memories are still fond of this woman. she can't just leave her here like this.

she sighs, and kneels down beside beau, laying her staff on the floor (behind her, where beau won't be able to snatch it easily). ]

Running from it won't make it hurt less. It's only a temporary reprieve.

[ here she hesitates, allowing herself a moment to feel awkward, before suggesting quietly: ]

...Sometimes it helps to cry first, and concentrate later. You have plenty of time to do that before tomorrow. No one will judge you for it.