For a sixteen year old girl who still couldn't grasp why it was rude to chew with your mouth open, Yorda was surprisingly at home with coping with grotesque deaths and the nature of mortality.

The carnage had certainly elicited a shocked gasp from her, and she'd staggered from the stench of blood and decay - after all, she had been going to the bakery for sweets and she hadn't exactly been expecting to round a corner into a nightmare. And after the initial shock, she suspected that this was exactly what this was. She'd heard about the Dreaming doing this sort of thing, and the overall feeling that this wasn't exactly real grounded her. Getting her bearings, she looked around for the source - this wasn't her nightmare after all.

The man on his knees who was covering his eyes with his hands and repeating 'no' like a mantra seemed a likely candidate. She hadn't seen him on the networks before - he might have been new.

Slowly, she approached, sidestepping a corpse and trying not to look at the writing on the walls. Yorda crouched down next to the hysterical man, and extended a hand to him.

"Hello," she said softly. "Are you hurt? What is you name?"