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With Victor, Orlando, and Verity comforting her, Maive felt a little better. She didn't mind that Verity took some water. After all, she had enough to go around. The fact that she returned it full of sea water confused Maive. At least she didn't throw it into the ocean.

Of course, Maive was then immediately smoked by the rage of the Irish.

Now awake and possessing a big gonk on her forehead, Sofia's attempt at mediation didn't really help Maive. She couldn't hear what she was saying. The ringing in her ears was too strong. Really, her senses didn't quite feel right. Her body felt fuzzy; there was no other way to put it. Her vision was steeped with indescribable colours that were both bright and dark. It was impossible to focus on anything but the tip of Imogen's finger. She couldn't see Frankie's breakdown as he clutched the ankles of another. She couldn't see off in the trees trying to Verity trying to rob a man of his modesty. Her legs didn't work. They usually did. But they collapsed as her knees touched the sand.

She had to make sure that others were taken care of. That was her responsibility. She was the type of person to bow her head, fight for eggs, and spend her free time helping others. Seeing people happy made her happy. But here everyone was. Stressed. Confused. Angry. 

It was ugly. 

She bawled.

She wailed.

Her well of emotions was flooding and Maive didn't know what to do besides cry.