Masks 2

Orla looked around, blinking. Because, she was like a barely sorta (timeywimey) maybe teenage still girl and she'd just been turned into a bunch of tumours again which was so not okay for so many reasons that made her shake with the memory of nightmares ever since she'd looked up how cancer worked herself at 13.

She just, crouched a bit in the void, becoming a little round ball as the space magic dragon said words.

She'd just, she hadn't even been able to die. And that horrible time jolt where she'd experienced both the past of cutting herself apart and being overcome with Radka's healing energy in the future to just become a helpless mass again, unable to help John be torn apart. Everyone else falling.

Orla was taking the pause moment to have a quiet little cry actually. Not like, bawling or anything, a fairly stiff expression, but, still. She needed some time to compartmentalise the pain of seeing everyone die even though that wasn't going to be what happened anymore. And also, just, feel like she didn't need to tear her own flesh off as it rebelled against her, a horrible mass of...

If you could vomit in magic space dimension, Orla hurled.