Emory wandered around the house, briefly glancing into rooms as she passed them, looking for Prometheus. She thought it was more likely that he'd gone down than further up, so she headed down to the second floor. She had to admit, in the moonlight, the house was rather fantastical, almost otherworldly. It was enchanting during the day, but at night it was surreal and enchanting in a whole different way. She thought she heard faint singing in the distance, but she couldn't really understand much of what was sung. The tone, however, sounded sort of sorrowful, lonely, almost longing. It was captivating, but sad at the same time.<br/><br/>As she wandered through the second floor, briefly checking rooms, she heard a familiar voice, speaking in Elvish, not far away. She walked just a little faster, stopping outside of the room, the one where they had found Wednesday. She peered inside, hearing his words, which sounded broken. He was kneeling on the ground, weeping, and holding something to his chest. She couldn't tell what it was, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he seemed sad, broken.<br/><br/>It was heart breaking. She could feel her own heart breaking for him. She wanted to help him. But what could she do? She couldn't bring his friends and family back, and she was all too aware that she was far from an adequate substitute, let alone replacement. She didn't know what to do. She knew he had probably been holding all of this back to avoid seeming weak. She didn't want to hurt him further by stepping in when he didn't want her there. Regardless, she couldn't just stand by and watch him break and do nothing. She cared about him, for whatever reason, and she wanted to help, somehow. She didn't know that she could, but she had to try<br/><br/>She slowly entered the room, stopping just short of him. "Prometheus..." she spoke in a soft voice, as if to make him aware of her presence. He didn't respond, almost as if he hadn't heard her. She knelt next to him, seeing that the thing he clung so tightly to appeared to be a picture, although she couldn't see what it was a picture of. She felt as though someone was squeezing her heart in her chest as she saw the pain clearly written on his face. He looked... tormented, and broken.<br/><br/>Without thinking she wrapped her arms around him, feeling Cessy move from her shoulder to her back, as if to either make it easier for her to move, or to put a little distance between itself and Prometheus. She held him gently in her arms, doing the only thing she really could at that moment. She'd heard his words, the reason behind his current state, but there was nothing she could say right now that would make any difference. And what right did she have to tell him anything anyways? She barely knew him. She could tell him that it probably wasn't his fault, that there was probably nothing to forgive, and even if there was, if they cared for him as he obviously cared for them, then they would undoubtedly forgive him. But what right did she have to say that? And what weight would her worlds really have in the end? She was nothing to him. Not really.<br/><br/>Instead, she remained silent, holding him for as long as he knelt there, as long as he wept. She wouldn't leave him, not until or unless he asked her to. In that moment of silence, no sounds heard but the sound of his weeping, she resolved in her heart to help him in any way she could. To help him find his friends, if they were still alive. She would find some way to help him. If nothing else, she would offer him whatever strength she could, and support him however she could. She didn't know how, or where to even begin, but she would find a way, some way to help him. She had to.