It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts and she can't give in. Even if her skull feels like it's being crushed in a vise, even if she's rent limb from limb, she can't give in. Fever knows, Fever knows, and yet, feeling the tearing in her abdomen (where that hack with the filthy blades, the filthy table will reach in and pry her open over and over and over)

it is enough to make her stumble

it is the opening that ORIN needs.

(If only she could cast, if only she was not silenced, she'd destroy this entire stage, she'd turn this ghost into a vessel for lightning, she'd burn out the eyes of everyone watching. Don't look. Don't see her fall like this. Don't see her destroyed.)