Sequoia Coast god loves you, but not enough to save you

Dinah sought @Ava Amara in the rough hours of midnight.
Sleep had not come for her, not for a while, and it had begun to devolve into a routine: sit awake, watching, until exhaustion forces sapphire eyes shut and the horrid dreams shock her to wakefulness again.
Ava; her only sister remaining, her tumultuous rival now othered and forced together by a cataclysmic sorrow. But despite all, Dinah felt a protectiveness, an instinctive drive to provide when no one else was there to do so. And because if she stopped moving, stopped pulling the levers and grinding gears, she feared she may lose herself in the waves that lap at her throat.
Has she eaten? Has she had water? Has she slept? Is she warm?
Will she be okay?
All questions she sought the answer to. All questions she knew would likely be met with no.
When she approaches, she cannot bring herself to say much of anything except for a feeble whisper of: I love you.