"Mari!"

Something pulled her hands away from her head. Her vision began to clear. Someone said her name. The child wailed.

Mari blinked, and Dainan was holding her hands away from her head. Blood welled up and rolled down her cheeks. Mari's chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. Her legs shook. Mari's stomach rolled, and something burning rose in her throat. Pushing Dainan away, she dropped to her knees and emptied her stomach in the corner of the room.

She didn't notice until after that Dainan had held her hair back. Mari coughed and looked up; her throat was too raw for her to speak. He handed her a torn scrap of cloth, matching the old, ratty blanket he had. She smiled and took it, wiping her mouth. Mari rubbed at her throat, but froze when Dainan touched her face. Cloth scraped against her cheek and around her ears, and they stung.

"You really scratched yourself up," Dainan said, "but they're all shallow cuts so I wouldn't worry about them."

Mari stared at him, not wanting to speak because of the burning in her throat. As she sat up, Dainan spoke just to fill the silence, "Regan wasn't the best at holding her alcohol when she was younger, so as her little brother, it was my responsibility to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. I became quite good at taking care of someone when they had to throw up."

"Little?" Mari coughed, unable to keep quiet any longer. "But you are taller and broader than her."

Dainan paused before letting out a short laugh. He smiled as he said, "Little as in younger."

Mari turned to Regan who struggled to calm her child. The woman's face softened; it was far kinder now that her attention was away from Mari. A hollow pang settled into Mari's chest. Dainan's description of a parent with their child didn't do the scene justice.

Dainan followed her ling of sight and sighed. He took Mari by the arm and helped her back to where they had been sitting. Even though her child had quieted, Regan did move her gaze from her son. Silence. Mari kept her eyes on her torn and layered skirt.

Dainan broke the silence. "Mari, can you... can you tell us what happened?"

Regan looked up. Mari chewed on her lip, but nodded. "I've told you, my memories are broken, hazy. They don't always make sense to me. That's how I ended up here in the first place. I was looking for someone else, but I couldn't remember their name. I misspoke and was brought here. Sometimes, sometimes images, or, uh, words can force a memory to the front of my mind. Sometimes, depending on the, uh, power of the memory it can be like I am reliving it. This time was like that. I was back in the same state, but this time I had control over my body, and I was able to do what I wanted to then."

Dainan reached out to touch her shoulder; Mari couldn't bear to see their expressions. There was a moment of silence, and then he said, "Regan."

Mari peered through her hair. The woman looked up as well; her face twisted between emotions Mari didn't have names for. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause that kind of reaction."

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Mari pushed her hair back and shifted her weight. That word... Dainan had said it once, but she hadn't understood. She furrowed her brow. "What does that mean? To be sorry?"

"Sorry is what you say when you feel bad for something you've done. It's for when you hurt someone. You say it to try and make up for what you've done." Dainan's soft tone and gaze caught Mari's attention. Mari struggled to wrap her mind around the concept.

She turned to Regan. "And this word it just fixes it?"

"Ideally," Dainan said. He glanced between the women. "Unfortunately, though, apologies are rarely so simple."

"I see." Mari took a deep breath. "Then I wish to express this for I do not feel good about what has happened. I am sorry."

"You don't have to," Dainan said. His hand hovered over her left arm.

"I know, but if sorry is meant to make up for what has been done, regardless of my unwilling participation, I must say it. The Seven never will, and if it will help either of you, please know the depth of...of my..." Mari closed her eyes, frustrated with her lack of knowledge of the proper word.

"Regret." Regan's voice sounded thick, and her child stirred at the sound.

"Please know the depth of my regret." The word was odd, but regardless of its true meaning, Mari thought it made her point.

The child started to fuss again. Mari tilted her head and watched it squirm, waving its small fists in the air. After a hurried conversation, Regan passed the child to Dainan, who took a moment to adjust because of his chains. Mari found herself leaning in closer. The child's face was covered in red splotches. His eyes were screwed up; Mari struggled to believe she had ever looked like that.

It did not take Dainan long to calm the child. He smiled at the baby and made strange, cooing noises. Despite the abnormality, the noises worked. Once the baby was gurgling happily, Dainan shifted his arms. "Come here, Mari. Take a closer look."

Mari started to move, but paused and turned to Regan. The woman pursed her lips, but gave Mari a small nod. Mari leaned over Dainan's shoulder. Her head hovered a short distance from the baby's. The child reached up and tangled his fist in her hair. Mari didn't even blink as he pulled on her hair. "People choose to have these children? And they grow to become people like us?"

Dainan laughed as the child let go of her hair. "Yes, well, some people choose to, and, yes, they do grow into people like us. There are different stages of life. So, when humans are young, they're called babies or children. It's after they stop growing, and can have children of their own, that they're considered adults. So one day, he'll be an adult like us."

Mari leaned back. Dainan passed the child back to Regan. She had once been that small. As she watched Regan, she wondered if a woman had once held her like Regan held her child. A mother was what Dainan had called them. Had she been held by a mother? A father? A family? Had she ever even had any family at all? Dainan had said she had, but Mari wasn't sure. She couldn't remember any. With the way Dainan and Regan had held and looked at that baby, Mari was almost certain that if someone, anyone, had ever held her or looked at her like that, she would know. Her memory was in shreds, but if that had happened, something so warm and gentle Mari didn't even have a word for it, she would remember it. Even if it was just for a moment, Mari would know it. She would know it if only because of the fact that it started to make any good memory with the Seven feel weak and worthless.

That baby... being held by a woman in rags and gazed upon by a man in chains. Somehow that baby had come into the world with more than Mari could ever dream of. How was it possible that such a creature who could not speak, walk, or do anything of value, had so much? To have people care about him before he could even know what caring was. To have people value him for doing nothing more than existing. Just being in the presence of that scene, being an outsider, like always, left Mari feeling empty, void. She felt incomplete. Hollow.