"I think I have to leave at least a little under my own power," she says, a little bit rueful. "That feels right."
She squeezes his hand tightly, and closes her eyes to block out the sight of the control room and its illusion of solidity. It...shudders, metal walls and floor groaning and seeming almost to melt, like clay mixed with water. When the resettle, there's a door that wasn't present before, and Yelena is panting with effort, forehead damp with sweat.
Whatever power's been mixed in with her nightmare, it clearly doesn't want to relinquish her easily. (Or, perhaps, some small part of her that forms the nightmare doesn't want to relinquish it, enough to hinder her efforts.)
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She squeezes his hand tightly, and closes her eyes to block out the sight of the control room and its illusion of solidity. It...shudders, metal walls and floor groaning and seeming almost to melt, like clay mixed with water. When the resettle, there's a door that wasn't present before, and Yelena is panting with effort, forehead damp with sweat.
Whatever power's been mixed in with her nightmare, it clearly doesn't want to relinquish her easily. (Or, perhaps, some small part of her that forms the nightmare doesn't want to relinquish it, enough to hinder her efforts.)