The crowd’s noise still clung to the air like heat as Isabelle stood just outside the cage area, arms loosely folded, green eyes steady—not on the blood, not on the spectacle, but on Astra; on the way she held herself after, like she wasn’t sure where to put all that intensity now that it was over. Isabelle didn’t rush her, didn’t speak right away—just stepped close when Astra’s breathing began to slow, offering a quiet presence instead of questions, her voice low and even when she finally did break the silence, something grounding in it, something certain: “You don’t have to come down from this alone.” A small pause, a soft tilt of her head toward the exit, already knowing the answer before it came. “Come on,” she added gently, reaching not to pull but to guide, “let me take you home.”