For just a moment, a beautiful, fleeting moment⁠—her sister patting her head, leaning against her, the hug so warm and comforting⁠—everything was right with the world.

And then Dahlia spoke, and the comforting warmth started to burn lower.

Just being there near Dahlia⁠—and the way she was talking, comforting, soft, like a real older sister⁠—was enough to cushion Quinn's pain. But...but the words she was speaking...they didn't sound right. [i]She[/i] didn't sound right. She was exhausted. [i]Exhausted.[/i] And it was all Quinn's fault.

The warmth burned away, leaving only fading embers, and her sobs stilled then, to shuddering breaths that she could speak through.

"[color=ffe63d]Deelie...Deelie...please...[/color]" She squeezed hard enough for her arms to shake, like Dahlia would vanish if she left go. "[color=ffe63d]You..you need sleep, Dahlia. Please. I know...[/color]" Her shuddering voice calmed to merely quivering. "[color=ffe63d]I know you're worried about me. That's why you're pushing and pushing and pushing yourself.[/color]" And then her voice went through another change. Went still, and flat, and [i]hollow.[/i] "[color=ffe63d]I'm hurting you again. Again and again and again, I just keep hurting you.[/color]"

"[color=ffe63d]I'm...I'm sorry...[/color]"