The long period of silence shook Quinn.

His smile had gone. He'd stopped talking. He'd shut the door. She was getting really nervous now. Nervous that she'd done something wrong. That she'd given him the wrong answer. Her heart began to race as he walked over to her and sat down just next to her. Her eye was wide and scared.

And then he'd started to speak.

She'd never really heard much about Westwel. Besca had talked about it a [i]little[/i] every now and then, but it was obvious that she didn't ever really want to. That it [i]hurt[/i] her to talk about it. And the last thing Quinn wanted to do was make Besca upset.

It was awful. Horrible. So terrible she almost forgot to breathe. [i]Nineteen million people[/i]. It was no wonder Doctor Follen had taken some time to work up to it. It no doubt hurt him just as much as it did Besca; he was just better at covering it up, wasn't he?

But it was fitting he'd mentioned a lightning bolt. Because the final question he'd asked..."[color=lightblue]The Modir attacked you. Why do you believe that is your fault, and not theirs?[/color]"...it hit her like that selfsame bolt.

"[color=ffe63d]Because I—[/color]"

She paused. Thinking over the question. Why? [i]Why?[/i] Why [i]did[/i] she believe it was her fault? Well, because...because...because it just [i]was.[/i] Her face was drawn and pale by the time she spoke again. "[color=ffe63d]...They...they were only there for me. If I hadn't...[/color]" She trailed off again, voice miserable. Why? Why? [i]Why?[/i]

"[color=ffe63d]If I...[/color]"

She dropped her head into her hands, muffling her voice. "[color=ffe63d]I don't know,[/color]" she finally said, almost as though it had been dragged out of her. "[color=ffe63d]I don't know [i]why[/i] it's my fault. It just...[/color]" She grappled desperately against herself and the guilt that infested her, trying to force herself to understand what Doctor Follen was talking about, what revelation he'd found after the fall of Westwel.

And, evidently, not succeeding very well at it. 

"[color=ffe63d]...It just...[/color][i]"[/i]

But still, she was...shaken. Why [i]hadn't[/i] she blamed the Modir? She didn't understand. Shouldn't they have been the first on the chopping block? 

But they weren't. [i]Ablaze[/i] wasn't. The swordsman wasn't. Because she knew deep down—deadly certain, as sure as she'd ever been about anything, that the one to blame was her. Maybe the Modir had done the damage, it was true. That, at least, wasn't her doing. But if she hadn't been there, they wouldn't have either. And Modir that weren't there didn't destroy a town and kill all of its inhabitants.

She took her hands from her face, but refused to meet Doctor Follen's eyes in favor of staring shamefaced at the ground, wishing she had a better answer.

"[color=ffe63d]...It just...is.[/color][i]"[/i]