While Antarcticite is busy being embarrassed, Rutile has already spied the crack and is crouching down to examine it, prodding at some of the more delicate areas with a gloved finger. Nothing seems prone to falling out, and when satisfied that Antarcticite is no worse the wear for it, they stand up and let their hands settle on their hips for a lecture.

And then, their gaze lands on Antarcticite's confused face. They recall what arriving in Aifaran for the first time was like all too well, and here is Antarc, thrown into a situation which doesn't even make sense. There is not much Rutile can do to explain this, though they could talk until the wind wears away their features.

Rutile softens - figuratively, of course - and their hands fall away. "There is a force here called the Dreaming," they say. "It does... strange things. Things I would not have thought possible. We could ascribe this to that, or..."

They trail off. They're not certain, yet, how appropriate it is to ask how much Antarcticite remembers. The revelation that Phos is responsible for their shattering could be too much to take at this point, and if they already know, it's likely a topic they won't want to dredge up.

"And, you would have been lost without me," they change topics. "That leg should hold, but take care; we'll need to find something that will suitably glue it, and it's a long walk back to the Bridge."