Braxiatel's Inbox

[becauseichooseto]

 Irving Braxiatel. Terribly sorry, but I am far too busy to answer the phone just now, but please do leave a message. Don't reverse the charges. Thank you.

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[Action]

[sheloves]

[She focuses on Eight, her fingers hooked into whatever fabric she can find as if not being close would send her right back into a tailspin, which it probably would. Other people wouldn't have embarrassed, no distressed her at all, but really, Eight is all she needs. He's holding her pieces together as he cradles her and she wordlessly fusses at him, but it's all show.

Even pale as she is, she's more concerned about him overtaxing himself. It's so much easier to focus on Eight as she buries her face into his chest. She really has no words for Braxiatel, and she's not sure she'll drink the tea, but she'll try.

It'd be hot, and she is still very, very cold, and she knows Eight's presence is the only thing keeping her functioning, and the only reason she hasn't just stopped. The emotional component to Ril's collapse is minuscule compared to magnitude being physically separated from her Anchor much like being separated from her ship, but there are bits of Six in the Doctor, in Eight, and while it isn't the same-- She'll have to adapt. She canadapt, Pilots were meant to do that, trained for it. But no one told her about what true Anchors were like, maybe because no one knew.

Priis help her, but nothing save being ripped away from Eth could hurt this much. Ril was sure of it.

She shifts to stare up at Eight with wide, terrified and heartbroken eyes that keep trying to overfill with tears she can't quite keep in check. Gods forgive her, but she can't let go of him, now.]