The plaza hums above the city, all glass, steel, and transit lights. Abby stands near the rail in the white glare of a glitched ad strip, her immense frame finally holding steady instead of straining upward. The Attendant watches from a cautious distance, ready to intervene if the crowd surges again.
Arthur checks the numbers one more time on his tablet. The readings settle, then stay put. Not perfect, but stable. For the first time, Abby’s growth looks like a state, not a warning.
Abby Stone
It stopped fighting me.
Abby Stone
This is enough space. Enough strength. Enough time.
The Attendant
If she stays within the marked lane and keeps clear of the span supports, I can log this as controlled. I want no incidents.
Abby lowers one colossal hand beside Arthur, careful and deliberate, making room rather than taking it. The city below flickers through the rail like a distant circuit board, and the wind moves around them without resistance.
Arthur Blues
Arthur can choose what they do next.
“I lean into her side and continue walking with her”
SUCCESS (Great Agility, rolled -1)
Arthur eases closer and matches Abby’s pace. Her side rises beside him like a moving wall of calm, and he settles into it without forcing the contact.
The transfer feels careful, almost ceremonial. Their steps sync, and Abby adjusts her stride to keep him near her centerline.
Abby Stone
There you are. Right where I can feel you.
Arthur’s tablet bumps lightly against his ribs. The screen stays lit, but the battery icon sinks another notch as they walk.
The Attendant
Marked lane maintained. No crowd spill. Logging this as controlled.
Abby glances toward the attendant, then back down to Arthur. Her fingers flex once, then relax, leaving the space beside him open.
Abby Stone
Stay with me a little longer.
The transit plaza hummed softly around them, all polished steel and distant departures.
Abby Stone
It feels steady now. Real steady.
Arthur Blues
Yeah. You are.
The Attendant
Logging controlled state. No further intervention required.
Abby leaned closer as they walked, and Arthur matched her pace without thinking.
By the time they reached the far end of the plaza, the crisis had become a life. Abby’s change was no longer a wound being watched, but a settled fact they could carry together. Arthur stayed beside her, tablet dimming, while the station lights held them both in a calm, ordinary kind of grace.