"It was all white and nasty and your hand was BONES."
"And it smelled like dead fish."
The blue licks of mist keep rising from under the plushie pile, but they soon dissipate. Phaedra's arm, reformed, sticks up through the top, shaking weakly with curled fingers.
Phaedra: ...Ughh. I'm... okay.
Pavel and Katja both sigh PHEW with relief.
Phaedra remains under the pile, and speaks, with the other two listening.
Phaedra: Sorry... I guess I'm still a little ...unstable. I just realized... my mother knows now. EVERYONE knows. It's... a lot to imagine.
Her eyes poke through the pile, looking tired.
Phaedra: I hope you didn't see... whatever was left of me.
Pavel bites his lower lip.
Pavel: Yeah. I threw up.
Phaedra rises from the pile with a stunned look on her face.
Phaedra: Oh. That's... informative.