[ between the two of them, the door flattens itself. kaveh considers its angle. he takes out a bubble level to double-check the margin of error they are working with, and then, considering it acceptable, motions for heine to stand so that they can lift the door together. ]

I wouldn't be able to guess at Badou's true thoughts - we are separate people, after all. But if I were him, I'd think so. What you choose sometimes doesn't matter as much as the act of making that choice itself. Or so I've learned, anyway. [ though, kaveh supposes - that is only something one can say to make yourself feel better for having known that the choices you had were between bitter and bitter. because in those scenarios, isn't it the fact that you chose, anyway, that truly mattered in the end?

alhaitham would argue bitterly against the notion of a choice that means so little. but kaveh is the one who has had to live out the consequences of it. ]

But I've been thinking of that question myself, Heine. What makes this place different? I think it's in part the fact that we've ventured into the unknown. If this were in Sumeru City, I'd argue that I'd also have quite a few blind spots as to what Teyvat is capable of throwing at us, but I'd at least know the extent of the danger and know the resources and recourse available to mitigate it. I hate feeling so powerless. But this place brings it out of me. That is a major difference between being back home and being here, I think.

[ hm. ]

Here's another perspective: that when two people enter the unknown together, there's an unspoken social contract to explore that unknown together. Isn't it so, that we are now in a context forced to rely on others in a way we have never done so before?