run rabbit run (joining)

Writhing but otherwise recumbent upon the strangers' antechamber, Chrysanthemum contended weakly against death. When afforded the will she would produce a sudden thrust of defiant motion, but elseways she receded quietly to the edge of consciousness.

It was a place of warmth and lavender in Chrys' experience, but she remained weary during her visits. Perhaps it was from a place of intrinsic wisdom, but whatever the source it cautioned her severely against the repercussions of wandering too far from reality.

Groaning fitfully as she wretched herself back once again, this time Chrys' head actually bucked up from the ground as her eyes struggled to find their unison in opening. A crust had already begun to form over the concave wound effecting her right eye, but so too did a yellowing puss dribble from between its larger fissures. Straining her left eye to make up for the affliction, Chrys could still see little more than the most generic of contrasts.

Dismal, was a choice word that came to mind, but like the haze Chrysanthemum was not consumed by it. For in all of her agony, she was alone -and blessedly so. Releasing a shuddering sigh Chrysanthemum fell limp and disappeared into herself once again -overwhelmed by the mere memory of the monster who had so destroyed her.