Dahlia stood bewildered for a moment, reflexively returning the hug. Quinn was okay? She was okay. She was crying—normal, sometimes she did that—but she wasn’t hurt. Scared? No, [i]sad[/i], she heard [i]sad[/i]. Sad. Not hurt. 

She let out a breath that made her whole body rattle. Relief, mainly, but also the exhaustion catching right up to her. The fog in her mind had parted long enough to determine her sister was alright, and now she could feel it closing again. Quinn was sad about something. Something vague, at least to her, but that was okay. Dahlia was sad about things too. She wanted to say that, but she couldn’t connect those wires quite right. She wanted to ask her what was wrong but couldn’t articulate that, either. 

Instead, Dahlia patted Quinn’s head, and resisted the urge to shut her eyes when she leaned her own against it. 

“[color=skyblue]No, it’s okay. It’s okay. No one’s dead,[/color]” she said absently. Didn’t sound right. Felt right, but the words were mumbled and directionless, and part of her knew she was responding more with the intent behind them than the words themselves. “[color=skyblue]No one’s dead. Promise.[/color]”