[ can he, though? if there's one known fact about clara oswald, one that appears never-changing to alina, it's the largeness of her heart. as though the sheer size of it makes way for all of the compassion and generosity she has in surplus, beating through her veins. but the others are an anomaly, for the most part. advocates for their own regrets. investing her faith in their potential for kindness is as dangerous as placing her fate in the hand's of mercurial saints, deciding destiny on a whim.

her mouth splits around an exhale, a hesitating pause before she counters, ]

He can't trust all of us.

[ alina won't ask him to. it's a rush against time to track him before the others sniff out his trail. an impatient bloodrush spirals through her, casting her squinting eyes toward the horizon. the shambles of the town linger in the distance, a hazy heat pluming in her vision. ]

But you're right — we do have to save him. Even if it's from himself. [ her lips roll, considering, then: ] Could he have gone back to his family's home?