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The aftermath of fear was always so, so heavy. Right now it was so heavy that Pendour swayed on her feet as she touched down on the mosaic floor of her Wonder, hand and hand with the others.

Her breath was still shallow. That was probably part of it. She wasn't breathing quite so fast now that she had a little distance, but it was like she still hadn't remembered quite how to fill her lungs all the way. The rest of her body felt like it was made of stone.

Catching a glimpse of Irving up on second level, leaning over the parapet, did not help. She was probably quite a sight to him with her pearl cap askew, her hair a tangled mess from where it had gotten caught in writhing robot arms, and her eye socket empty. (Between taking the prosthetic out to show Basiluzzo, and the dust and debris of the commotion, it had gotten far too dirty to put back in before she could wash it.)

Her body didn't have much adrenaline left to give her another spike of panic at the sight of him. Instead, she just felt more exhausted somehow.

"This way," she murmured, and biting her lower lip, she began walking towards her quarters at the fastest pace that she could manage. This was not her gibing any kind of tour of the place.

She needed something soft to collapse into, now. Encke had the benefit of medication in his system, but she thought he probably needed it, too.

Basiluzzo watched the others with a mix of anxiety and protectiveness pushing against his ribcage. He had a hand resting with fingers lightly wrapped around Encke's, his thumb rubbing the top of Encke's hand. His other hand tucked some of his own hair behind his ear as he listened to the two of them speak however briefly. He could hear the exhaustion in Pendour's voice, and his grip on Encke was light half to make sure that he'd be able to step forward and catch her if she fell.

He'd figure out how to carry both of them at the same time, if he had to--

"What do you two need from me?"

What did he need from Basiluzzo?

His existence? Just staying? A few nonsense words, a nonsense story, something about how dance competitions were going? For Basiluzzo to knock him out so he could rest without the nightmares sneaking up on him?

Hard to say. He let out an affirmative noise to what Pendour said, unable to articulate much else between how heavy it was to think.

It had been a while since he had a panic attack quite like that. Some may have thought they had seen him anxious, had seen him panic, but the cold fear of his appendages being outright immobile echoed to something he still hadn't articulated much. It had gotten easier. Had gotten yet easier when he felt his comet reach out to him, when that mutual connection had saved him from the chaotic push even touching him--

the box, the box--

But his comet had been unreachable, and he was immobile, and a robot had been digging, digging, digging--

Irving's smooth voice distorted his thoughts, and it pulled him away from it as he glanced over his shoulder. He felt like he was looming. His presence felt unnecessarily daunting. Encke knew Irving. He wasn't unfamiliar.

Perhaps Encke wished he was.

"You know who I am, Irving." Encke couldn't hide the medicated exhaustion from his baritone, every syllable seeming heavier than it naturally rested. "Not right now."

Viatrix watched Encke, trying to take her signals from him as to how to react. She had already done enough damage today by having all of her foci in the wrong spots.

And he seemed to know Irving already.

She glanced to Pendour as if it would give her a hint.

Irving's pale, ghostly eyes looked over Encke. In a way, they were understanding. He'd run a resort known as a place of tranquility and recovery for years. He'd seen people in mental crisis before. There was nothing soft about his gaze, though.

If anything, he looked disappointed.

"I thought you were stronger than this," he told Encke, paying the disgruntled Uranus knight little mind. Once, he might have been more subtle about his opinions, but a thousand years of solitude had rubbed away at his manners. "I thought you might be able to show Sarandon what someone capable looks like, but that was too much to ask, wasn't it?"

"Sorry," squeaked Pendour, any anxiety in her that had managed to calm ratcheting back up. Her breath was shallow, and quick. Tears were streaming down her face again as Irving turned his gaze on her. "Sorry. Sorry. We shouldn't have come here. We shouldn't have come here."

She kept mumbling apologies, over and over, almost too soft to hear.

"I've known Sarandon was useless from the start," said Irving, not paying her much attention, either. He looked over towards the water, and was mostly ranting to himself at his point. "It's not just her, though, is it? It's not just her taste in friends. This whole generation is useless."

The blood was rushing in Basiluzzo's ears, his body going alternately ice-cold and white-hot. He didn't like Irving ignoring him. He didn't like the look Irving was giving either of them. He didn't like the look of Irving in general.

Of these things, he could do something about one of them.

Basiluzzo's legs were long and that meant many fewer steps to stand between Irving and the other two. Sure, they were both stronger than he was, technically. But he wasn't injured, wasn't shaken. He stood taller, bigger, was taller and--in Pendour's case--bigger.

Oh, and he was certainly tired, and he was certainly pissed off.

'This whole generation is useless.'

Basiluzzo barked a laugh, and it wasn't kind. Swallowing the 'okay boomer', "you're less than useless, standing here acting brave because--" he waved a hand in front of his own face, "you can't face any consequences for it. Easy to run your mouth when you're already dead, isn't it?" He glanced to Viatrix, then over his shoulder to Encke and Pendour.

He should have probably checked, first, if the ******** could even do anything. Basiluzzo didn't, so far as he knew, have a Great Value Force ghost over at his own wonder. If he did, they were definitely quieter. Basiluzzo's eyeroll was as thick in his voice as it was exasperated. "Can this overgrown, overbaked playground bully actually do anything, or are we free to proceed and ignore him?"

Anything except talk, anyway. He could definitely talk--

Even walking in her humanoid form, Viatrix didn't quite hold back the considerably more cat-like growl at the way the damn ancestral knight just shook his head. What, he wasn't done? Hadn't he already said his piece? Of the three people with her, two of them had just had a terrifying day. Didn't need this guy making it worse for some reason.

She stepped closer to Pendour, even if she felt quite small surrounded by all these people. At this point, would she be more useful as a cat?

Encke could tell he was being ignored, and it would have frustrated him if not for the fact that Basiluzzo wasn't having it. He watched as his husband advanced up further and went straight for Irving's jugular, and couldn't quite hold back an airy laugh even in this state. Overgrown, overbaked playground bully was quite the image, to be honest...

The deathly calm that Irving responded with would have been creepy if there wasn't an element of it that was almost ... sad. His use was over. His words were all that were left.

There was something in the background that made Encke's heart ache just a bit, but he would address that later. She was shaking. And while Viatrix had already headed over to try and help, Encke moved over to do the same, offering his hand at the very least. His body was tired. Encke didn't want to leave her off-balanced in his attempt to help her, too--

"Not your fault." Encke glanced toward Basiluzzo. "Like Basi said, he's just being a playground bully. This," he yawned, "place is a space of peace where we can relax even with him around. Just... try to ignore him."

He glanced to the three others, and then out to the wonder.

Viatrix, with a huff, added, "This place isn't his anymore anyway."

Pendour might have been spiraling towards another round of panic, but she did her best to hold onto the words of her friends.

Irving was gone now, she told herself. And now, they were here, close to the room that she'd been working on for months.

It was only a few more steps to get to the Knight's chambers, but for her, it was still a terrible effort, as was shouldering open the heavy door, encrusted with shells and pearls.

The inside of the room was decorated much more like her Earth apartment than the rest of the place. The walls and floor were the same intricate mosaics as the rest of the wonder, and a window in the ceiling let in all of that dappled light, but the furniture was all beanbag chairs, and massive pillows, and blankets, all clearly modern and in soft pastel shades of blue, and gray, and green. The rotten bed had also been replace by a new mattress, and the sheets on that were mermaid themed.

There were some battery operated lava lamps, and Pendour managed to turn on one before she collapsed face first into the mattress.

"Rest," she murmured.