All the tension inside of Quinn's body drained out and she slumped backwards. She leaned against the wall at an awkward angle and there was a sharp [i]click[/i]ing sound as her plugs rattled against the drywall. Somehow that sound—that feeling—had become familiar to her. Not even familiar; [i]comforting.[/i] And something about that made her so horribly upset.

"[color=ffe63d]...Did I really?[/color]"

She went quiet. Thinking about something. The expression on her face steadily became more and more drawn. Minutes passed before she pulled herself upright again, looking...not [i]at[/i] Dahlia, but in her general direction. 

"[color=ffe63d]Besca said she told you about the water.[/color]"

She took three deep breaths. Then slowly, almost [i]meditatively[/i], she picked up her braid and reached behind it with both hands, just above the main neural plug. Fiddled with something.

"[color=ffe63d]...They said it was because I looked outside.[/color]"

The fiddling ceased. The knot came undone.

In dead silence, the eyepatch peeled away from her face and fluttered to her lap like a mourning ribbon, revealing an eye socket that was absolutely mangled. And not just the socket; her entire right orbital and then some was covered in ragged white scar tissue. Her one functioning eye remained downcast.

"[color=ffe63d]I don't—know what really happened to it. I don't think it was good.[/color]"

She grazed her hand over it, feeling the unfamiliar, uncomfortable skin. Thick. Callused. Almost numb to the touch. 

"[color=ffe63d]I've never taken it off before. I've never even seen it.[/color]"

Then slowly, almost unwillingly, she raised her head and looked her sister straight on. Her eye—the one that still worked, anyway—barely held back a tsunami of sorrow and despair.

"[color=ffe63d]...Why did this have to happen, Dahlia?[/color]"