The priest tests a step. "I'm— I'm Thea." She stretches out a hand, but not for Avery to take: it's curled; faint and uncertain. "A-are you okay?"

Avery shifts against the wall and pain zaps through her shoulder, blaring a reminder that no, she isn't. "Emh— I'm fine. But why are you here? That's part of the whole 'who' question: are you with that gu—"

The cat on Thea's shoulder flicks her tail. "Meow!"

Memories of a tumbling mess of claws and limbs surface. Avery squints, trying to compare the cat in front of her to the furry blur she remembers. "Right, I didn't get a good look then, but... aren't you the one that saved me from that teleporting guy?"

"Raow!"

Avery turns to Thea. "So the cat was with you?"

"O-oh, no. Not e-exactly." Thea stands there silent; searches her mind. Unable to find an answer there, she darts her eyes over the knickknacks cluttering the desk — Valerie's desk — between them. Binders and loose papers mostly, but there's more. A couple leafy begonias; a blade-thin computer monitor; a digital picture frame showing a compact, middle-aged man. He stands in front of an old exhibit and beams a smile. Valerie's husband.

Run! She's looking for something to kill you with; that picture frame could do it, heavy and perfect clobbering-size as it is.

Drifting tendrils snap rigid around Avery's chest — quick, effortless. They squeeze. Crush. Steal what little breath she's recovered and forces it out her mouth as an involuntary gasp. She clutches at her chest and crumples against the wall. No, stay here. Stay present.

Thea plants a foot forward alongside her cane, but something anchors her other foot in place. She hovers there. Floats like a plastic bag caught in the current of highway traffic — unsure which car to jump in front of next.

Deciding whether to actually go through with the murder. Come on, get going. It's your last chance to make a break for it.

Avery bites down on her lip hard enough to taste a trickle of iron; tiny stars ignite behind her eyelids. I can't! I've got no where to— wait, when did I close my eyes?

She rips them open. The world spins: her vision is a kaleidoscope with everything multiplied thrice. Alarm bells ring inside her mind, but she can't place why. Is the priest doing this?

Three Theas stand still, all silent and hesitant and unaware — caught inside a trap of her own making. Without warning, the priest's figures change. They grow... taller? Three cats shoot toward the ceiling riding upon her shoulders.

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Wait, no... Avery's falling. Sliding down to the floor and catching scrapes from the wall's jutting stones along the way. She doesn't notice the pain. "Wha— what's— ugh. What's happening?" The words flow out in a slurry.

Thump.

She hits the ground butt first. The impact jostles her arm and fresh pain jolts from her shoulder, down her spine. It feels far away. Almost numb.

Am I going to be okay?

Thea scrambles nearer. "Oh g-goodness, oh no." She falls down to her knees beside Avery; the cat slithers off onto Valerie's desk in the same motion.

Sweat pours over Avery, then ice. Then sweat again. She flings her good arm at the priest in token resistance, like a desperate, overboiled noodle. "N— no. No, please."

Thea hesitates, hand hovering inches from Avery's shoulder and eyes wide with horror. "I— I don't know much, but the abbot had me learn some first aid. I can help."

Don't let her, this is it! There's a sword in her cane or something: this is a trick!

Avery's resistance disappears with a reluctant groan; a whimper. She gives in and her entire body slumps to the side. Thea catches her in an odd, impromptu hug.

Wait, no. Not a hug. Using a gentle yet firm hand on Avery's back, Thea guides her to the lie flat on the floor. "Your shoulder... it k-kind of looks like internal bleeding. You're suppose to lie flat for that. I t-think."

Avery can feel her eyes roll back and her eyelids flutter. She works every wrinkle of her brain to form thoughts, but they're sparse; disconnected. So... I am... bleeding in there...

"Oh!" Thea struggles to her feet. She fusses with the desk and starts to wrestle Valerie's chair out from its footwell. A ruckus of wood and metal and plastic — the cat tosses out an occasional hiss, easing the symphony's percussive dominance.

It's annoying. A clamor that prods the edge of Avery's consciousness; refuses to let her drift off and rest. Not to mention everything's spinning: desk, windows, cat, and plants. They float around, bouncing off the walls in her momentary glimpses of the room. Thea swings the chair free and rolls it to a stop near the tips of Avery's feet. "Okay, o-okay. Putting your feet up will help too."

Avery's stomach churns. She darts eyes around her swirling surroundings, trying to lock onto something. Anything steady enough to ground herself.

Her legs jerk upward: Thea wrenches them toward the seat of the chair. "Come on, y-you can do it."

Churning guts threaten to jet out of Avery's throat. Her saliva turns oddly warm and she claps a hand over her mouth. "Wh— guh— whoa. Wha- are you d-doing"

Thea hefts Avery's legs upward through grunts and huffs. "Helping!" She jabs her knee into the chair's side a couple times, nudging it. Satisfied with its position, she eases Avery's feet down to rest on the lip of its seat. "Okay, a-are you still awake?"

Blood rushes down Avery's legs and straight to her head. Warmth flushes her face; clouds of fog that obscure her thoughts thin. "Uh — uh huh. I think so." She says.

Why are you answering her?

Avery drapes her good arm over her eyes, trying to block out the unwanted pestering. "Why are you helping me?" She gulps down warm saliva, fighting the odd metallic taste permeating her mouth. "Guh — who are you?"

"Uhm, it's... it's complicated." Thea says.

"Talk."

"You should rest. Lie still and—"

"Talk."

Thea shrinks back. Inward. "I— I made a mistake. I shouldn't even be h-here. I only agreed to help because no one was going to get hurt. I should have known better."

Spines of hair jump from the back of Avery's neck. She tries to lower her feet, tries to prop herself up and push away from the woman. "You are with the people that were trying to k—." Her head spins and she crumples back to the carpet. "Guh. Bad idea."