Lakshmi holds her firm, a grip like a vice. But she does not look to Magni, she looks to the space left behind, by that shape, too familiar, and too foreign.

"She is my city." Is the long breath of words, so barely, barely uttered as she tenses, "She is my Jhansi."

Perhaps it is not that she is stopping Magni from moving, perhaps it is that she must hold onto something, at all, and hasn't that always been some kind of truth to her entanglements?