“[color=skyblue]Yeah. Yeah, you did great, Quinn.[/color]”

Dahlia hefted Quinn up to her feet, helped her stand, but kept an arm around her so the girl could lean as heavily as she needed. She looked back to Besca and Follen, not lingering so long on the latter. “[color=skyblue]I’m gonna get her back to the dorm,[/color]” she said. 

They hobbled away, Quinn still sobbing, and vanished into the hallway. 

The instant the doors shut, Besca whirled on Follen. She seized him by the collar with a barely-restrained [i]snarl[/i], incensed by the fact that even [i]that[/i] didn’t elicit more than a cocked brow from him. He wasn’t even looking at her, the rat fucking bastard. 

“[color=gray]She wasn’t ready![/color]” she shouted. “[color=gray]She wasn’t ready you son of a bitch, [i]she wasn’t![/i] We should have run sims!”[/color]

Hands pulled her away, bodies squeezed in between them. She let him go, let herself be spaced away as he walked closer to the Savior. 

Ichor stained the floor, pooling into large drains while janitorial machines scrubbed up the residue. It leaked from the wounds Quinn had rent into the arms, stained the modium claws on its fingers. 

“[color=lightblue]Did she touch her face?[/color]” he asked. 

Besca shook the hands off her. “[color=gray]Fucking what?[/color]”

“[color=lightblue]Her face. While she was phasing, she didn’t touch her face. Not once—I didn’t see it, did you? No. Just clutched her arms.[/color]” He shook his head, not disappointed, but [i]confused[/i]. “[color=lightblue]She didn’t scream, either. No indication she was in pain.[/color]”

“[color=gray]What the fuck are you talking about?[/color]”

“[color=lightblue]Come here, Besca.[/color]”

Hands still wound into shaking fists, she walked over to him. His head was craned up, and a curious smile crept onto his lips. She followed his gaze to the Savior’s slumped face, to the mouth limply agape, wet with dark slaver and hot breath. 

And ichor. 

So much of it, dripping down its teeth, down its chin and into the drains. It stared down at them vacantly, red eye dim. 

Red eye. 

Eye. 

One of its eyes was gone. 

Besca gasped loud, almost staggering back. Gone, the socket was empty—no, not just empty, [i]burst[/i]. It was as though the eye had exploded, not a trace of it remained. 

“[color=lightblue]Interesting,[/color]” Follen muttered. “[color=lightblue]So very interesting.[/color]”

[hr][hr]
They’d gotten Quinn back into her own clothes and into the lift without issue. The ride was just as quiet, broken by the occasional sob. 

The dorm was still empty. Dahlia kept a firm and steady hold on Quinn, guiding her to the room beside Besca’s. She laid her down on the bed, flicked on a light on the nightstand. 

“[color=skyblue]It’s over, Quinn. You did it. You did good. Just relax. Breathe.[/color]” She vanished for a moment, in the bleary dark between blinks, and returned with a glass of water. “[color=skyblue]Try to drink something. That helped me my first few times.[/color]”