Ercilia looks at the wall full of drafts and sketches that Drystan still hasn't gotten rid of.
While she remains distracted by the unfinished collage before her, it occurs to him that she has not yet asked about the nightmare she witnessed. How she had allowed the moment to pass like a storm – a natural phenomenon that warrants no questioning. She does not wait for an answer to take action, which he thinks is quite typical of her, and to make sense of what is given to her to form her own.
Ercilia picks up where Drystan has left off, taking stacks of newspapers collected from around the globe before placing them in the empty spaces of the packing boxes.
"You really worked hard all these years," she said.
He does not comment on that nor object to what she's doing. For a moment, he just watches her from afar before finally pushing himself to stand next to her. He takes the loose papers that are about to slip through the cracks of her arms.
