Thunder Dome deja vu

elowen steps closer, her feet light against the sodden ground, her breath shaky, but determined. the storm rages, a thousand voices of chaos echoing around them, but she hears him—sees him—like no one else could. his trembling figure, the pain in his eyes, the way he struggles to hold himself together. she could almost feel the weight of his grief, thick and suffocating, as if it was woven into the very air around them.

the words he speaks—so hollow, so full of fear—stab at her chest like sharp, cold needles. she recognizes that hurt. she feels it too, deep down in the marrow of her bones, a kindred ache, though perhaps it’s a different kind of sorrow. still, it resonates.

"you’re not fine," she whispers, the words carried away almost immediately by the wind, but she doesn’t mind. she doesn’t need him to hear her perfectly. she knows the storms they battle inside are far greater than the ones on the outside, but it doesn't make them any less real.

she isn’t sure what she’s doing, but something in her refuses to let him drown in his pain, in the dark that would so often consume. her voice trembles in the storm's rage, but there’s a softness to it, a kindness that cuts through the thunder. "you don't have to be alone," she murmurs, her eyes never leaving his, steady as the storm that threatens them both.