[She's angry at that - but she pushes it down. It's not hers, it doesn't belong to her, it's the wispy corrosive magic that's all through her now. And she doesn't have to lash out just because it wants her to. She looks down, focuses on her hands. She can't see her veins anymore, though she can feel the blood frozen inside them. It's weird.]

When I tell her my reasons for things, she listens. She didn't like it when I killed myself to avoid going crazy when the rabies outbreak happened, but we talked through it. I know she's worried right now, but she's trying to understand. And the more she does, the more she'll know it'll be okay.