[i][color=ffe63d]Don't let anyone else die because of me.[/color][/i]

Dahlia felt like she might be sick, had she not already emptied her stomach in [i]Dragon[/i]’s cockpit. For the briefest instant, every ounce of guilt that Quinn harbored washed through her, and it made her soul heavy, made her into an anchor with the entire, crushing depths of the ocean pushing down above her. 

“[color=skyblue]You didn’t…[/color]” she started, only for her voice to peter out. What could she say? What assurance could she give that she hadn’t already? Or that wouldn’t be a lie? She wouldn’t lie to Quinn, not ever. She’d promised. 

Quinn wasn’t a killer. That was the truth. The only thing Dahlia could do was prove it. 

She let Quinn go, gently. “[color=skyblue]Stay here,[/color]” she said, and then darted for [i]Dragon[/i]’s body as if every bruise and sprain and cracked bone had been forgotten. 

“[color=gray]Stay where?[/color]” Besca asked over the comms. “[color=gray]Where is she staying? Where are [i]you[/i] going? Dahlia?[/color]”

“[color=skyblue]Probably fifteen minutes ‘til the head’s too mulched to get into. Convoy won’t be fast enough, you said so.[/color]”

“[color=gray]Because there’s not point. Deelie—Quinn, did she—[i]Deelie[/i]! Listen to me. She’s gone, it’s too late. There’s a [i]lake[/i] of ichor around her and that’s not including what might have leaked into the cockpit![/color]”

“[color=skyblue]Don’t know that.[/color]”

“[color=gray]I know it’s not worth you![/color]” Besca shouted. “[color=gray]Neither of you! Deelie, get [i]back[/i] there and wait with Quinn! [i]Dahlia![/i][/color]”

She didn’t get an answer. From where she sat, Quinn would be able to see Dahlia’s form half-limping, half-jogging towards the hill [i]Blotklau[/i] was crushed against. She had a small bag slung over her shoulder. 

“[color=gray][i]God—[/i] Someone, hey—ETA? Extraction, ETA? No, I don’t care if the path is burnt up, you have four-wheel-drive for a reason! Pick up the bloody pace! Quinn, honey, Quinn—can you hear me? Don’t—don’t let her go. Don’t—someone get me [i]eyes[/i] out there! [i]Please[/i]![/color]”

Besca’s voice grew distant, like she’d stepped away. Quinn could hear her yelling, giving orders, scrambling around inside the pavilion alongside a dozen other people desperately trying to figure out what their pilot was doing. 

In minutes Dahlia had scaled the hill. She poised herself behind [i]Blotklau[/i]’s head, and then leapt out of Quinn’s view. There was a hard thumping sound over the comms, a grunt, then—

“[color=skyblue]I’m on. Damage was mainly to the front of the head. Back skull has been cracked open. It’s a mess. I don’t see—ah, there.[/color]” Bootsteps on flesh and metal as Dahlia traversed the giant’s neck. “[color=skyblue]I can see the access port—it’s been impacted, I’ve gotta…[/color]”

Another sound crept into the comms from Dahlia’s end. It was foggy at first, so quiet it might have just been the elevated wind, but as she kept going it grew louder and clearer. 

Screaming. 

“[color=skyblue]…It’s Tormont—hey! Hey! I can’t…I’ve gotta squeeze in. God, the smell…so much ichor…[/color]”

Quinn listened as Dahlia pushed through metal and matter, and as she passed into a cavernous space, the screaming pitched. It wasn’t merely pain or fury, but an amalgamate whorl of rage, and terror, twisting in a boiling sea of agony. 

“[color=skyblue]Oh god…[/color]”

Gradually, words began to bubble to the surface, never halting the screaming, only caught in its riptide current. They were brief and bitter. [i]“[color=ec008c]No![/color]”[/i] [i]“[color=ec008c]Fuck![/color]”[/i] [i]“[color=ec008c]Get off![/color]”[/i]

Eventually Dahlia spoke again, though it sounded like she was fighting through an urge to gag. “[color=skyblue]She’s alive, she’s…the seat’s been wrecked, it’s got her pinned to the floor. There’s ichor everywhere, the whole leg’s submerged. I can…I can see growths. God.[/color]”

More steps, more screaming, and then splashing. Dahlia must have stepped into the pool with Roaki. 

“[color=ec008c]Wh-who the f-fuck?[/color]” Roaki choked, voice quivering. Whether it was from the cold or the pain was impossible to tell. “[color=ec008c]Y-y-you’re…the…[/color]”

“[color=skyblue]Stop thrashing, I…[/color]” A loud grunt, she was pushing something—or trying. Roaki shrieked. “[color=skyblue]I can’t move the seat. I can’t…[/color]”

“[color=ec008c]Who the f-f-fuck are you ta-talking to?[/color]”

“[color=skyblue]Her leg’s all sliced up. The ichor’s in. The growths…they’re bone-deep, and rising. They’re gonna spread. I’m seeing some above the hip, and…shit. Besca! Is medical with extraction?[/color]

A scrambling sound as Besca returned. “[color=gray]What? Yeah![/color]”

“[color=skyblue]They’re gonna have to cut.[/color]”

“[color=ec008c][i]What?[/i][/color]”

“[color=skyblue]And I’m gonna have to remove the foot first if I want to get her out. They can get the rest on the way.[/color]”

“[color=ec008c][i]What?![/i][/color]” Roaki screamed. “[color=ec008c]No! N-no! You can’t! You can’t take it! I-I’ll fucking k-kill you, you hear me? I’ll f-fucking—[/color]”

“[color=skyblue]It’s your leg or your life. I’m getting you out—you can live if you want.[/color]” Dahlia set down something heavy, zipped it open. A few moments later there was a sound like a torch igniting. “[color=skyblue]Here, bite down on this.[/color]”

“[color=ec008c][i]Don’t![/i] Don’t cut me! You can’t![/color]”

“[color=skyblue][i]Bite down![/i][/color]”

[sub]“[color=ec008c]Please…[/color]”[/sub]

There were a few, quiet moments. Panicked breathing. The burning of some horrible tool. Dahlia took three deep breaths, shaky, like she was on the verge of fainting. 

“[color=skyblue]I’m gonna mute myself for this.[/color]”

Then the comms went silent. Whether it was the wind carrying it to her ears, or just her own mind filling in the gaps, Quinn might have sworn she could hear screaming from the skull of that distant Savior. But it was quickly overpowered by the rumbling of tires on fire-packed earth, and the sight of a half-dozen vehicles rolling up to her. A man stepped out, saw her, and waved towards [i]Blotklau[/i]. Three of the vehicles sped off that way, the rest stayed behind. 

The man climbed up to her, pristine white coat smudged with ash and dirt just from a few moments in the air. He knelt down beside her, out of the glare of the sun, and she saw its light reflected off his glasses. 

“[color=lightblue]It’s alright, Quinn, darling,[/color]” Follen said. “[color=lightblue]It’s all over. Lets get you home.[/color]”