[A zap startles Yorda and the comm drops. The soft white light she gives off vaguely illuminates the rubble of what's left of Latimer's fifth floor. She picks up the comm, studying it with a rather puzzled expression.]
...Speak. Should speak, anhui...
...
Am not want to speak though. Want to look.
[And she closes the comm, the transmission
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[That rubble looks awful familiar. Some place she shouldn't be right now.]
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[DELIBERATELY NON-SPECIFIC, WUT.]
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