Tatters of coattails stick to her claws. Bella's hand closes around ruin and empty air. 

The rush of blood through her head roars in her ears, keeping time with the furious pounding of her heart. Joints tense, crack, and scream. She doesn't hear them. There are words being spoken, by someone. To someone. She doesn't hear those either. There is her pulse, her sickening traitor's heart, the slushing proof of her guilt. And that is all the sound that can fit inside the world. 

Bella's legs shift uneasily underneath her. The weight of her body rocks one way, and then the next. Her muscles coil and then relax without picking a target, without choosing attack or escape, without even moving her from the spot where her feet have been rooted to the ground by the weight of her failure. Is she breathing? Her body is convulsing, and that might as well be the same thing. 

Her claws itch. Her fingers close around them and squeeze tight, as if to tear them all off. Again, the motion of her legs: the bend, the pivot in place, the curling of her foot to put her on the ball when she can chase the silver spiral and the Hunt once more. Where she can disappear from all senses and all thoughts and all failures. Her skin itches. Like her claws do. 

There is a moan escaping from her lips, but she feels it in her throat more than she hears it. Her hands open just enough to let her bury her face in them, instead. The sharpness pressing against her temples feels like relief. She can let pressure out this way. She can stop the noises this way. All she needs to do is squeeze. Squeeze until the memories stop. Squeeze until her heart bursts. Squeeze until there's no more room for love and the poisonous hurt it brings. 

And she is about to, when the fingers close about her wrist and pull her face back into the open air. Bella looks blankly into the worried eyes of Beljani. The Oratus says nothing. The Diodekoi wouldn't hear it anyway. But she does shake her head, and point. Something is twisting inside of Bella. It feels like the heated point of a knife broken off inside her skin. She tries to wrench her arm free, but it's pointless. Her power is broken. Even the sound of blood in her ears has gone quiet. There is a war inside of her: half wanting to explode and the other half wanting to relax into oblivion. It hurts, to stay where she is. But Beljani keeps here there.

She feels a nudge on her back, and the gentlest of pushes. Suddenly she is free. It would be the simplest thing to disappear with the opportunity this affords her. The push wasn't enough to even shift her weight; she could turn easily and disappear through the door faster than any eyes in the room could follow. She has that power. She does. But the blade inside of her tugs in the same direction as that quiet, warm push. And at last her feet unstick. And she moves in the direction they both lead.

The knife point turns into a hiccough. Bella's face is wet. One step. Two. The room is full of sounds again. Full of breathing and the word, "center". The warmth of bodies huddling against the coolness of the air. And she...

She wants that, too. So she takes it. 

Bella's arms are long enough to wrap up Redana and Beautiful together. They are strong enough to lock the both of them in her embrace. But her legs can't hold her weight, and she slumps until her face is resting in Dany's hair. Her tears are hot, and loud.

"I'm sorry," she chokes, "I'm sorry..."

She says it again and again as if caught in a loop, or seeking the absolution that only a perfect utterance of the words can bring. Not these weak, sniffling attempts but something proud and strong and invincible enough to be vulnerable. The way that everyone expects from her. And like she expects from herself. But her voice is small and weak. Only the tears seem loud enough to say what it is she needs to say.

"I just... wanted things the way I-- I just! Everything... just hurts you. I only... make it worse. But I don't want to lose you! Not either of you, not again! Not again! Not... Dany. Y-you're always... such an idiot. I never wanted freedom. Just you. Just... you."

The miracle ends, and tears steal her words from her again. Bella sobs into her embrace, only stopping to cough and repeat the words 'I'm sorry' over and over, on a loop. But she doesn't let go. Even though she doesn't deserve this, any of this, not the scent or the warmth or the feeling of being this close again, not forgiveness or to be allowed her confession, but she holds tight anyway.

And when Beljani joins them, Redana really is in the middle of it all. And everyone is well and truly trapped. Everything would be perfect, in its crazy, fucked up way, if there was only one more piece here to slot into the shape.