Sabine always keeps the line out and open, connected to Julie and Julia. She feels it—both steadily and in the teeming waves—when Julia's evolution and elevation wavers. She's young, even centuries later, to Sabine, but by that time, she's endlessly dear, too. It is important in the same way that bubbles need to catch the light and storms need an explosive clap before the lightning.

She feels the brewing of the the bad times, appears usually before it has become the worst; if that, learned only through experience and leaving her too long. Capriciousness and the eroding of humanity's boxes wall by wall, year by year, century by century—but Sabine still remembers. What Julia said at the beginning, yesterday, centuries ago, five seconds back—about what she didn't want to become.

"Eventide, Wicka."