...and, if it's not really me? What then?

Gil is frozen as he watches Rivin dissolve in front of him. The pain in her voice is evident as she collapses to the ground. Stay away? Doesn't want her to hurt them? Who was she talking about? She was Rivin, right? Unless she had the same affliction her father had. Well fuck. That wouldn't be surprising, but also... that was very concerning. Suddenly, there's an issue and Gil isn't sure how to handle it. He's not a healer. He's not a therapist. He doesn't know how to handle feelings and emotions and whatever it was going on in Rivin's mind.

He can't help but growl. How was he to fight an invisible force? His teeth clench together. Ears flattening against his skull. "Rivin, get up," Gil commands, the deep rumble of his voice leaving no space to argue. He's going to combat this the only way he knows how. "I don't care who the fuck is in your head, but you are in charge. Tell her to shut up and ship out. I don't care if you need me to beat you into the ground right here and now, but I will not tolerate one of my pack members going on a killing spree," there is a seething tone to his voice as his lips raise into a snarl. He lowers his head, hunches his shoulders, puffs up his fur as he steps toward the cowering Rivin. Sure, he doesn't want to hurt her, but if this is the only way...