[ The realization comes quick, dawning on his face and twisting it into something rarely seen─ shock, uncertainty, and lingering disbelief. He witnessed her death, they all had, hopeless to stop it from happening, and yet here she stands. Alive and well.

How? The question echoes in his head, loud and unyielding, and he realizes all at once where they stand and how it must look. His body tenses, hand curling tighter around the bouquet he had intended to leave for her. The companion they had lost in their struggle, but they did not actually lose her it seems. That knowledge alone sits uncomfortably upon Estinien's shoulders, sets his jaw tightly as he wrestles with all that spins in his head. ]

We watched you fall. [ He starts, looking to the sky then to the flowers in his hand. ] Either we were too hasty to presume your demise, or my mind is truly lost to me now.

[ In the back of his mind he hears Aymeric's disapproval, his worrying concern for his dear friend's health. Perhaps he should have rested more, despite his many valid grievances with the concept, if he is dreaming up the return of Ysayle in his waking hours.

The dragoon exhales, annoyed at himself more than her, holding the flowers out towards her. ]

Take them, then, if you truly breathe. If you do not, I ask you leave me be.