He's not wrong to be concerned -- just the brief surge of irrationally strong fear already has the wind kicking up a bit around them. But he touches her arm and that seems to snap her out of it, or at least keep her from falling further into a panic spiral. Without thinking, she gravitates closer to him. Her heart is still pounding and she's shaking.

While she's not really tuning him out, she is splitting her attention. Maybe it's the isolation, maybe it's abrupt transitions between metaphysical planes, maybe it's just the closeness of the Singularity's overwhelming emotions mirroring her own, but whatever the case, Julie is struggling to keep herself on an even keel. She grabs for his hand and squeezes until her knuckles are white.

It's his hesitation that cuts through the fog of her other thoughts. Geralt is usually decisive; he doesn't exactly spitball ideas very often. "Unless?" she echoes, following his line of sight but seeing nothing. Within the next breath, though, she puts it together. Her brow knits.

Learning to make the stone had been hard enough on its own. She had read some theory about portals, making them the way Academic mages do, but that had seemed almost as foreign as the stone did. The steps and the movements and precision of it all. At least the stone had easier, more concrete steps to it. And if there's anyone left in Abraxas who can use Wild Magic to make portals, then Julie has never heard of them.

"I don't know how," she says slowly, quietly. Which she is aware has never really stopped her before, but. "I never tried to."