[She stands right beside him, watches it hurtle up spitting sparks and trailing a thin tail of smoke, then blasting with a terrible crack that vibrates in their sternums and rings in their ears. It makes her shiver, faint and reflexive. It's not the sound her father's lightning made, striking stone. It's close, but the pitches and the echoes are different. She brought these here. And even the similarity is comforting in a backward way, peeling away the fears and hatreds of the breach, reminding her who her real enemy was. Wordless, because neither of them would hear much, she holds out another bottle and firecracker to him to hold. She wants to light the next one.]