"The survivors will need help more than we do," Yelena says quietly. Not all the shapes made visible by the sudden realignment of the room with actual physical dimensions are moving; some of those might still be saved, if tended to quickly enough.

She uses her good hand to tuck her injured arm against her chest, throat bobbing as she swallows back a surge of nausea.

Her gaze flicks back to Elidibus, briefly assessing. Measuring, almost. If she's considering whether or not they can disguise him in the clothes of the permanently unmoving, she at least has the grace not to sa as much.

Yet.

"Did your colleague follow you in here?"