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Brisa gave an abrupt snort of a laugh. "It's alright, partner. I ain't holdin' anythin' against you. Wouldn't be fair." She laid her head down again and let Vix get comfortable. She was still so tired, but right now, that felt okay. Not a failing. Just a sign she should rest some more. "I'll...

"Every soul that answered Diyem's call is wounded," said Sombra, her voice seeming to ache. "Brisa by the need to be better'n a person can be while still bein' a person, and you by whatever's in yer repressed memories." You deserve some rest. Brisa turned to look at Vix, and studied her more...

Sombra nodded sagely. "Could be a traumatic death, then. A murder, a suicide, somethin' of that nature." "Gods, Sombra. Go easy, will ya?" "I say what I mean to say," answered the Shadow, blank golden eyes narrowing. "Vix does want to remember, an' we don't have the energy to tread gently...

"Could be it's where you died," said Sombra, flatly. Brisa winced at the bluntness. "Uh, if'n you're from a world with humans, an' y'weren't always a litwick afore yer life as you've told it t'me, is there a chance you were human, once?"

Brisa frowned. There was a burst of anger—Vix was mad at her for helping Owen? Really?—but she ddn't have the energy or the desire to sustain it, and it died immediately. Vix was angry . . . because she'd been unable to contribute. Now that, Brisa could understand. "It's okay that y'couldn't...

Worried about her? "Y'wouldn't be the first. She's been ignorin' how much her exhaustion is worryin' folks fer weeks." ...Was that true? ...Yeah. Yeah, it was, wasn't it? It sounded like Vix was really struggling, though. "You, uh . . . said somethin' about bein' too tired fer blind rage?"...

Brisa smiled weakly. "Howdy, Vix. Pretty sure y'don't have legs, partner. I hope, ah... Hope you're doin' alright." Her speech turned into a yawn at the end. How tired was she? "It's good t'see you well," said Sombra, quietly. "Y'all were mighty troubled last time we saw ya."

Brisa stirred in one of the Null Village huts. How... How long had she been asleep? Had she overslept? "Don't get up. You're still recoverin'." Brisa groaned, as her Shadow put a paw to her shoulder and pressed her down into the bedding again. Sombra's voice was still that wearied wind-like...

Already, the group is falling apart. You haven't done enough. "Hmm. At least if you an' yer shadow are separate, that means no goddamn conflict between ya. You'll have to wait, Cabot. I gotta find the most vulnerable of us an' lend a paw." Brisa cast about for the scent of Cynthian, and though...

"There must be somethin'," growled Brisa. There was always something. "I gotta make myself useful." She looked around at her surroundings, taking them in through bleary eyes and a mind aching from thrashing, tightly-bound negativity. "You aren't shadowed," she remarked. "Why?" Neither was...

The fatigue wasn't physical. It was baked in, a part of her deeper than tiredness, something in her soul itself. There were people around her. Owen. Dave. Voices. Arguments. Diyem himself, talking about . . . everyone on Cibus. This wasn't Cibus, nor home, but the realm of Diyem, of Veritas...