Emory felt her heart break for him as he told her that it was hard, and somehow managed to choke out the last few words, 'there is no going back.' She wanted to take away whatever pain he was feeling. To bring back the light that she saw fade from his eyes, despite the fact that he tried to hide it by looking away. She didn't really think about it, but before she knew it she had leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him gently. After a few moments she pulled away, in case he didn't like it. "<span style="font-style: italic">Sorry.</span>" She said gently, apologizing in case he didn't appreciate it.<br/><br/>She was grateful that he didn't ask about the herbs, though she was sure he probably wondered what they were for. Instead, he offered to dry them for her, saying that fire wasn't always to burn things. He raised his hand, his skin beginning to glow. She could see the effects of the heat on the air around his hand, just as she could see the glow of his skin flickering. He reached his hand out and hovered it above her skin, careful not to touch it. It was warm, even without touching her. "<span style="font-style: italic">If you wouldn't mind, that would be helpful.</span>" She responded to his offer.<br/><br/>She nodded to his words, smiling tenderly as he talked about fire, explaining how he liked it and how beautiful it was. He then asked if she thought fire was beautiful and she nodded. "<span style="font-style: italic">Yeah. I think it's very beautiful.</span>" She smiled, her eyes staring into his as she answered. "If I didn't before, I do now." she added softly. Even if she hadn't thought it was, which she did, the way he spoke of it, the look on his face as he spoke, and his entire existence made it seem more beautiful to him.<br/><br/>She wondered what he was thinking as he stood there and she tilted her head, watching him as he stood there before he took a breath and stepped back, breathing out, and then walking towards the door. Before he walked out of the room, though, he stopped, and she stared at him, blinking as he spoke, telling her not to lose her fire. "<span style="font-style: italic">I won't.</span>" She replied gently.<br/><br/>He left the room and she followed him, watching from the doorway as he knelt next to Wednesday. She thought he looked somewhat sad, concerned. He was worried for his friend, just as he wondered what had happened to the remainder of his friends. She didn't have any answers for him, and she didn't know how to really comfort him, or if she could. Still, she approached him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "<span style="font-style: italic">I hope you never lose your fire, either.</span>" She spoke, referencing his earlier words.<br/><br/>She didn't mean literal fire, of course, but rather what was in his heart, in his eyes. He very much embodied the element, and even the brief moment when she'd seen the fire fade from his eyes, it had seemed like such a shame. She didn't want to see him look that way again. She wished she could give him some answer for how long Wednesday would sleep, what had happened, where his other friends were, but she had no more answers than he did. Still, she had hope. She just hoped that at least she could help him to see that he at least wasn't entirely alone. She also hoped that she could help him somehow. She hoped that her plan would help Wednesday to wake up. Then maybe, just maybe, he would be happier, and he would have some hope, too.<br/><br/>She lingered for a moment, her hand on his shoulder, before she let it drop and headed back into the kitchen with a renewed sense of determination. She really hoped that this would work. That it would help. She wanted so desperately for it to work, for her to be able to help him somehow. With that in mind, she walked into the kitchen, picking up the basket, and began to make the preparations she could, beginning by separating those things that needed to be dried, including the root and a couple of the herbs, from those that didn't, including the remaining herbs and the flower. She wouldn't be able to make it until tomorrow, as there was one flower she would need to pick at a certain time in the morning, right before she finished it, but she would make whatever preparations she could now, until Prometheus was ready.