The situational absurdity is not especially easy to process on top of the unfamiliar environment with its overabundance of new stimuli. Magic adds a brand new, unconsidered component that Mako only chooses to grapple with briefly before shaking her head, slow and unnerved. She doesn't have the words to voice the plethora of rational arguments that spring up following that declaration, and each is obvious in its own right. The alternative to the explanation offered is, quite simply, not possible.
The wind-stirred branches and leaves below her suddenly seem much less exciting, much less inviting or worth the oddity standing before her.
"That's not possible," she finally offers quietly, regretting her inability to fill the void with sensibility and words and logic. Hermann would have already elucidated half a dozen well-researched arguments, and Mako can't remember what any of them might be short of the flat, the simple, the waveringly defiant: not possible.
Didn't they say alien life was not possible? They must have.
Lost on that tangent, Mako doesn't hear the bizarre insistence that the bird will not hurt her, nor does she catch the introduction. Her fingers worry the branch she clutches in restless, searching concern.
no subject
The wind-stirred branches and leaves below her suddenly seem much less exciting, much less inviting or worth the oddity standing before her.
"That's not possible," she finally offers quietly, regretting her inability to fill the void with sensibility and words and logic. Hermann would have already elucidated half a dozen well-researched arguments, and Mako can't remember what any of them might be short of the flat, the simple, the waveringly defiant: not possible.
Didn't they say alien life was not possible? They must have.
Lost on that tangent, Mako doesn't hear the bizarre insistence that the bird will not hurt her, nor does she catch the introduction. Her fingers worry the branch she clutches in restless, searching concern.