Follen seemed pleased that she’d agreed to try. It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested a more analyzed approach, and he wasn’t the only one, either. Besca and Dahlia both seemed convinced that the truest, most lasting damages done to Quinn in her childhood were internal—literally, yes, but also figuratively. While knowing she wasn’t in immediate danger of keeling over as a result of whatever horrific experiments had been performed on her, it did little to assuage the pain of watching her fall apart in every other way.

Of course, even having told them about it, looking inward wasn’t the easiest feat when the guiding voice in her mind urged her to give in to her angriest impulses. [color=black]Quinnlash[/color] seemed to want what was best for her—best for them both, really—but some days it also seemed like she didn’t [i]want[/i] to be happy, that she wanted to keep them both trapped in a cycle of desperate fury. 

[i][color=black]If we understand these things, won’t they go away?[/color][/i] the question radiated from within her, not mocking, not angry, but almost confused. The edges of her vision darkened ever so slightly. [i][color=black]What are we without them?[/color][/i]

“[color=lightblue]Pardon?[/color]” 

The room returned, and Follen’s voice pushed [color=black]Quinnlash[/color] back beneath the pool of their mind. He looked concerned, though not like she’d been thinking out loud, and more that she wasn’t making any sense. He considered her briefly, but intensely, and then quickly leaned back in his chair as if all was normal.

“[color=lightblue]I don’t believe that’s possible at this point, Quinn. Apologies, I thought you already knew—the deal was made. We’re delivering her to Casoban within the week.[/color]”