The words find their mark, find the soft exposed places in Fever, and she stops in her tracks. Her voice dies in her throat, and something in her eyes retreats, goes dim, her spine minutely straightening by degrees. She looks, in that moment, like nothing so much as her other self, the one who let herself be choked into nothingness by the overbearing presence inside of her. Something hollowed out and empty, retreating even further.

It's the sort of look that says Valdis could lunge forth and sink her teeth into her, and Fever wouldn't raise a hand to defend herself.

Fine. If Valdis wants to be cruel, she can be cruel. It's something of a relief, to have it come from an exterior source instead of interior for once. If only it bit deeper, it might actually offer some peace. Instead, Fever just lets her hands fall limply at her side, and turns away.

Go, then. This way she won't see what direction Valdis goes.