"This body is named Eira, I however am a psychometric. No hard feeling, but next time you try and enter my domain, I will mentally bitch slap you to tomorrow." The ease of which she said this made most of her threats ring true, whether she was bullshitting or not.. Most people didn't dare take that chance, and those who did tended to end up dead. The girl glanced at the self-proclaimed 'Overreach' curiously. "I didn't mean to come off as hostile, but Eira must still touch your wheelchair, sir." Slower this time, the girl reached out a hand to touch the arm of it, her eyes rolling back slightly once she made contact.

Unlike the vengeful past of the corkscrew, the subsequent flood of images and emotions were much more tragic and sorrowful.

"The person who previously owned this wheelchair died quite an unpleasant death.. But they weren't the first. Salvaged from a hospital, then? So you weren't born paralyzed.." Eira removed her hand, tilting her head to the side as she observed the occupant of the chair. "I'm sorry, Overreach. You've had this awhile though, hmm? I'd wager 8 or more years, no more than 14. A lot of memories tied to your chair, a friend or loved one that died or you lost contact with."

Eira looked up at Aran, before stepping forward to grab the water for him, much preferring to put herself at risk. "Sir." She handed the bottle to Aran, keeping her eyes on the Mental. "We thank you for your consideration, Dawn."

[@Conch Shell VII][@EchoicChamber][@Claw2k11]