Neva moved too, quietly, to the other side of Pria's chair. She put one hand on the back of it — not touching Pria, just present at the edge.
"What did yours feel like," Pria said. To Neva. The question of a person looking for a map.
"Like nineteen years of held breath finally releasing," Neva said. "And then — like myself. For the first time."
Pria looked at her hands.
"I don't know what that's like," she said. "Being myself."
"You will," Neva said. "In about forty seconds."
---
The full wave hit without more warning than the one before it did.
Ziko had learned, last time, not to try to manage it — not to put his hands on someone's arms or try to steady them physically, because the body going through the break needed to move through it rather than be held against it. What it neede
