[ In her memories she's seen the strangest of faces. Things that aren't meant to be real but are, creatures that hide in secret and possess peculiar abilities. Werewolves, hellhounds, chimeras. But the images of them don't come to her easily. A side effect, she thinks, of all the medicine, of all the insanity she's undergone these days. All because she's a banshee.

She blinks at him in a temporary silence, trying to piece together if he's one of those mysterious beings she's come to know. Yet still, she can't place the faces.

That he stands here in the middle of a hospital hallway, maybe she has it all wrong. She shakes her head, fingers pressing to her temple. ] Sorry. I think I — things have been mixed up for me lately. [ Too many things. ] I ... think I'm supposed to be going somewhere. I can't remember.