Dahlia regains consciousness abruptly. Her body feels like it had been torched and put back together and her mouth is so dry she has to peel her tongue from the roof of her mouth.
She opens her eyes to find herself in what has been her room for days, though the musty scent lets her know the room has not been properly aired for a while. Claire sits beside her bed, her head resting against the back of her chair and her face softened in sleep. She sits up, her muscles groaning in protest and lets out a moan. The older woman's eyes snap open and her face immediately arranges back into her resting expression of disapproval immediately her eyes settle on her.
"Water?" She asks and grabs a jug from the floor beside her before pouring some into the cup.
"Yes." She says before dissolving into a
