For just a minute—a half-moment of peace—Quinn lay there, squeezing Dahlia like she'd disappear if she let go. Her voice, her great desperate sobs, blotted out everything. It was fine. Dahlia was here. Dahlia was alive. Everything would be okay. 

But that moment didn't last long. The world began to assert itself, creeping back into that void of sensation and thought. And the first thing that tore through as Dahlia embraced her was stunning, eviscerating guilt. [i]What gives you the right to be close to her? The Modir came to Hovvi for you. FOR YOU. It's all your fault. You killed [b]Daz[/b]. You killed [b]Safie[/b]. You KILLED. EVERY. ONE.[/i] Those sobs didn't get any louder, but they grew [i]heavier.[/i] They tears flowed more freely. She gripped tighter and buried herself deeper, like she was trying to hide herself in Dahlia's arms. And at some point, though she wasn't quite sure when, her keening wails were punctuated with anguished, crumbling words.

"[color=ffe63d]...I'm sorry...[i]I'm sorry...! I'M SORRY![/i][/COLOR]"

The words were already hard to understand. Her voice was too tired, panicked, and tear-stained to be clear. But then her guilt caught at her throat again. Force her mouth open. Forced the words out as she gripped so tightly she could feel her whole body shaking from the strain. And then the guilt screamed with her voice.

"[color=ffe63d]It's my fault, it's my fault, it's ALL my fault,[/color]" she babbled, brain caught in a short-circuiting logic loop. "[color=ffe63d]He was looking for me, he was looking for me, he found me, he found me before he was hunting me they came for me [i][b]I[/b][/i] led them there I let them in and without me Safie—[/color]" She went totally limp, barely holding on to her sister as she plunged further and further into self-loathing. Her voice broke and the sobs decayed, then collapsed into barely-breaths cut through with miserable, mewling apologies. 

"[sub][color=ffe63d]I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't hate me...I'm sorry, I'm...[/color][/sub]"