Wails of anquish escaped Macy's lips as she cried, on and on, feeling the pain she had inflicted deep down in her core. Despite her interest in the macabre, she never wanted to hurt any of her allies. It did not take her knowing the man personally to know the sort of damage she had done. The worst of it was that she knew he would not be angry at her for losing control. He could not scold her, or think ill of her, as he had offered himself to her. She did not feel that was right. For her to be able to inflict such suffering, without consequence, because of her own stupid decision to use her magic... The young woman had been fully conscious of what would happen if she used her power. Had they really been so cornered that she needed to resort to magic? Really? Was it really worth the delay she had caused, the suffering Arguth was currently going through? Heavy tears streamed down her face, and for the first time in awhile she acted her age. She was still a child, really... and in this moment she reacted how a child should when faced with death and bloodshed. The bright light told her he was regenerating, but she couldn't stop her shoulders from bobbing in despair. He may heal physically, but she knew a deeper damage had been done. He would have the memories of this pain for a long time, just as she had memories of pain. It was worse than killing them, or so she believed.

Her body was numb to Diana's embrace, but she neither fought against it nor reciprocated it. Instead, she simply cried into her chest, like a small child crying to their mother, with her arms limp at her side. Arguth's screams made her flinch, and that was when she finally clung to the dragon-woman. Horrible, heart-aching screams echoed in her mind, and throughout the chambers within which they stood. The sound would haunt her for a long time. Sure, Macy had used her magic several times before... Scar would usually stop her. Why hadn't he, this time? Had he seen her desperate gaze? No, she couldn't blame him... There would have been no stopping this. Still, she had never felt the pain of actually going through with her bloodlust. The euphoric feeling of it had been fleeting, and left behind was only the weight of deep regret. The moments passed slowly, and time seemed to stand still as the young girl just cried and cried... unsure of what else she could possibly do at a time like this.

---

With no recollection of how she had gotten there, Macy awoke to find herself curled near Diana. One of the twins had woken them with a light tap, and judging by the state of things she figured quite a bit of time had passed. You could hardly call her well-rested, but she knew that there was no time to stay here. As Arguth said, they had no more time to waste. Arguth... Her gaze strayed toward the floor to hide her shame as he spoke. She couldn't look at him- his broken chainmail only served as a reminder of her misdeeds. Instead, she took a breath to focus herself, slowly rebuilding the emotional wall that she had up most of her life. Now was not the time to lose herself. They still had a mission to complete; after the delay she had caused, the last thing she wanted to do was become dead weight. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to eat the rations provided, opting instead to skip the meal and keep to herself in the corner as she "meditated", in a way. By the time they were ready to continue, she would be wearing her usual, monotone expression. Although she appeared mostly back to normal, she really had suppressed her feelings on the matter, deciding she would figure out how to cope with it once she had helped her comrades to safety. The only hint of her thoughts on the matter came in the form of her avoiding Arguth - she took great care not to stand close to him or make eye contact with him.

As they made their way through the prison, she stuck to the back of the group, her rapier- covered in dried blood that she tried to ignore - and her dagger in hand. Fire and ice shot out in front of them, and that was when she truly went on her guard; the fight had begun. Following in her comrade's steps, she lunged forward to slash at the creatures, lacking her previous interest in their grotesque forms. Instead, her movements were like clockwork- slash, stab, push, jump- as she steadily tried to take down enemy after enemy, taking great care to not become overwhelmed by the sheer number of them. And good god, were there a lot. Her movements were methodical, and it was all she could do just to keep the bug creatures at bay.