dark as corpses but cluttered with gold

She's relentless. She has to be relentless. It's the relentlessness, the undying spirit, that's kept her alive this long. That's let her see this whole living thing through. Hazel has seen it through, and here she is. Here she is, trapped in this nightmare, a construction of her own brain. A labyrinth of her own creation, Hazel's system working against her.

From somewhere far off, she can hear her voice. It comes again, louder. She was being shaken. Shaken, but she can't see the ghost. She can't see the ghost-- until she can. Her heart caught in her chest. When Hazel's eyes finally flicker open, when consciousness finally takes hold once more, she is panting. Panting, sweating profusely from her paw pads. Blood... she can still smell the blood. The girl thrashes for a moment more before going completely, utterly still. Her eyes wide, her head aching. Trying desperately to re-orient herself. At the center of it, Basilisk.

Trembling, Hazel looked up at him. Now more a man than a boy, he'd shaken her awake. Trying desperately to catch her breath, the girl felt as if she really had just been in a fight. Every bit of her ached, physically, mentally. "Bas, I... I saw him, in my dream," the words come as a pained, quaking whisper. Her voice hoarse. Eyes wide, bloodshot, she looks up at him. Every bit of Hazel shook, the adrenaline just beginning to fade from her system. It's only now that she can feel the wound in her foreleg. Fuck.

"Speech"