At her feet, she found something joyful. The horizon cleared and she too sat on the ground. Her gaze locked with Mischa.
“I didn’t think we’d see each other again.”
“Given what you do? It was likely,” Mischa was hoarse, hesitating to move from the ground. The glow suppressed Oktavia’s features, in which the illusion was consolable that she was safe. Her head rolled to the side, almost touching the robot’s knee.