[The funny thing about being crazy. The funny thing. Was that from moment to moment she might be swamped in terror, or sorrow, or teeth-grinding fixation, or the desperate fractured sensation of being lost. But there was so little continuity, so little space for reflection. She didn't know she felt awful, couldn't concentrate enough to evaluate or worry about it.
She knows who she is, now. She's clear again, and she can see all her ugly fault lines, all the cracks and crevasses. She feels like she's still broken, deep down, doesn't know how long it will take her reassembled shards to knit back together underneath the cast of functionality Morgana managed to grant her.
And now. Pietro, and Rikki, and the impossible demand that she put her mind on the line as a conduit for mysterious powers yet again - but she has to. Because this isn't fixing itself.]
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She knows who she is, now. She's clear again, and she can see all her ugly fault lines, all the cracks and crevasses. She feels like she's still broken, deep down, doesn't know how long it will take her reassembled shards to knit back together underneath the cast of functionality Morgana managed to grant her.
And now. Pietro, and Rikki, and the impossible demand that she put her mind on the line as a conduit for mysterious powers yet again - but she has to. Because this isn't fixing itself.]
I feel fucking abominable.
[She slumps next to him, takes a grateful swig.]