Roaki jolted when Quinnlash shot up, and would have met eyes with her out of reflex, only Quinnlash was unfocused and covering her mouth like—

Oh.

She listened to the retching sounds from her bathroom, dumbstruck, staring at the toppled chair. Had that been her fault? Were the things she’d said so revolting that Quinnlash had needed to expel them immediately? Deep within her, she felt a little flame that she hadn’t been aware of snuff out, leaving behind a cold lacuna she could not ignore. For the briefest moment, she had allowed herself to believe she understood. Perhaps, she’d thought, she had actually seen something familiar in another person—in [i]Quinnlash[/i], her enemy, yes, but also the only one to beat her. Someone who had doubts, like she had, and who seemed close to making the same mistakes or worse. She realized dumbly that she had tried to help. 

[i]Idiot.[/i]

By what right? In what way? Here she sat, day in and day out, broken and useless, a failure, senselessly clinging to a life that would be infinitely more valuable in death. She had lost. Quinn had won. How could she ever compare them? To assume so much, to insinuate similarity was worse than insult, it was omen.

[i]Just the idea of it sickened her.[/i]

This, Roaki guessed, was no ploy. This was folly. She had forgotten her place, and had been swiftly and poignantly reminded. Cold cell or sterile room, the Aerie was a prison, and these people, especially Quinnlash, were her wardens and tormentors. She only hoped, soon, they’d grow bored of her.