[ They work in silence. At first, it is difficult. To Ciri, each step feels weighed down with sand, each piece of wood -- not even real, remembered, a piece of the past -- seeming so much heavier than it should be. It isn't a physical sensation so much as a drag in the air, a thickness in the emptiness. A tension, coiled in her body like a fight-or-flight response though neither is appropriate.
She picks up pieces of wood, avoiding the shattered stone as much as possible when it's everywhere. The monolith still glints inside. They cover it up, but it will be there the same as it always was-- now that Geralt knows.
Her hands press alongside Geralt's to the trunk, righting bark and branches.
It gets a little easier with each piece. Only a little, but it is a start. ]
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She picks up pieces of wood, avoiding the shattered stone as much as possible when it's everywhere. The monolith still glints inside. They cover it up, but it will be there the same as it always was-- now that Geralt knows.
Her hands press alongside Geralt's to the trunk, righting bark and branches.
It gets a little easier with each piece. Only a little, but it is a start. ]