human
Beatrice:  "...Ryuzu." The fragment of an old memory from the far reaches of her mind made that word spill from her lips. She had spent those empty and stagnant months and years the same way, averting her eyes from that painful past. Why now, of all times, had she remembered that regret, that memory, that girl’s name? The most likely explanation was her premonition.
gpt
Beatrice:  I’m getting you out of here, Beatrice—This time, my hand’s gonna lead you right out under the big ol’ sun, and we’ll play around until that dress is totally black from mud.