Quinn didn't know what to do. She'd never done this. She'd never comforted anybody, and certainly not on something like this, on everything she knew crumbling around her. How could she know what to do? She didn't even know what to do for herself. Her throat was still raw from the screams. Her own eye was still red and puffy. What could she do?

...What would Besca do?

As carefully and steadily as she could, she slid down until she was also on the ground, resting on her knees. Her vision was starting to blur, and she could feel the water brimming up. She was still hurting. The thought of Daz made her hurt more. But with an effort to move mountains, she didn't let herself break down. 

Then she gently lifted the prone girl's shoulders off the ground before leaning in and catching her in a deep hug. She was weak, and she hurt, and she shook with strain, but she refused to move, clutching her tight to her in what she hoped was comforting instead of suffocating. Was this okay? Was she helping? Was she making it [i]worse?[/i] Tears started to run down her face but she didn't let herself sob. She couldn't. She just couldn't. No matter what, she couldn't break down, she couldn't break down, she COULD NOT BREAK DOWN.

"[color=FFE63D]No,[/color]" she forced out through the lump in her throat and the lead in her chest, quiet, as soft and gentle as she could. "[color=FFE63D]No, no, it's not your fault, it's not.[/color]" Her tears were obvious in her voice, and her control was steadily slipping as she closed her eye to squeeze a new rush of tears out. No. Don't let yourself. You can't. 

"[color=FFE63D]You didn't—you didn't hurt anybody. You—you're alive, and—[/color]" She held her tighter. "[color=FFE63D]And—[/color]" It hurt to talk through the lump, and her voice was shaking now. She was trying. But it was coming, and she couldn't stop it. So in the last breath she had before she couldn't hold on anymore, she murmured through a voice clogged with tears, "[color=FFE63D]And S—Safie wouldn't—wouldn't want you to be sad.[/color]"

The tears came faster, and still she held Dahlia tight. And for her sake too. Daz was dead. Daz was...[i]dead.[/i] It seemed like such a foreign idea. It didn't make any [i]sense[/i]. He was like a mountain, strong and dependable and immortal. He'd saved—

The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. He'd saved her. He'd saved her. Instead of running. It was her fault that he'd died. Not Dahlia's. [i]Hers.[/i]

Then she was sobbing again, just like that morning. Clutching, heaving, desperate sobs, leaning into Dahlia's shoulder in turn. "[color=FFE63D]No, no, it's my fault. It's my fault [i]it's my fault[/i] [b][i]it's my fault![/i][/b] He didn't—he could've gotten out—but I—but he, he needed to—he saved me and he—I—I didn't—I'm—[/color]" 

[sub]Why?[/sub] Why? [i]Why? [b]Why? WHY?[/b][/i]

"[color=FFE63D]I'm sorryyyyyyy...[/color]" Any words that might have been left in her disintegrated, and she finally broke down.

[i]I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.[/i]