"[color=gray]Whatever you saw, it was nothing, it was a dream. You're awake now, breathe. Breathe.[/color]"

She breathed.

"[color=skyblue]You're okay, you're okay. Relax. Talk to us.[/color]"

She breathed again. Then a third time.

Finally, finally, Quinn's senses dripped back into her head and she seemed to realize where she was. The hand knotted in Besca's shirt loosened then released its grip, falling to the floor with a limp [i]thud[/i]. Conversely, she [i]squeezed[/i] Dahlia's hand like it would vanish if she let it slide away. Her gaze slid down to her arm and she stared at the red lines as Besca dabbed them. 

She'd done it to herself, she knew. The fingernails of the hand clenched around Dahlia's hand were testament to that. She could [i]feel[/i] the fragments of skin underneath them, knew they were stained red. But it felt so far away, so...irrelevant to everything. Her head felt like there was a thick layer of fog in it, and she struggled to string thoughts together.

"[color=gray]What eyes, Quinn? What needs to have its eyes?[/color]"

A fraction of the fog lifted. She remembered how to talk.

"[COLOR=FFE63D]Savior,[/COLOR]" she croaked out, voice as shredded and torn as her arm. “[COLOR=FFE63D]Th' Savior. Tell me 's got both eyes. Pleeeease.[/COLOR]" A long, low moan as her head lolled on her neck, lips parting as she faced the ceiling. "[COLOR=FFE63D]Don' wanna be them. Tell me 's not true.[/COLOR]"