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[color=darkgray]Poe's legs burnt as she continued full-pace down stone hallways, fleeing [i]something[/i] she was certain, but had already forgotten what, already sealed that away in sheer unconscious trauma-response. Now she was just running, carried by specific but unknowable fear, and the Finite Passage was more than happy to spool open further paths and corridors in front of her, quick to provide further space to put between her and whatever she had left, distantly, fading, behind her. She rounded corners and bounced off stone, seeding little fruiting bruises that she'd poke and wonder and wince at over the coming days, but all was a blur in favour of just [i]running[/i].

Something sharp pulled at her like catching the thread of your sweatshirt on a thorn and she whirled on the spot; in front of her, where there had been none previously, was an innocuous wooden door, smooth and walnut-brown, with a polished brass handle set above a polite but sturdy keyhole. Poe paused; she looked to her right, down the corridor she'd come from - endless gray, rock curving away to the great black maw at the edge of the world. She looked to her left, up the corridor left before her - faintly, in the distance, she thought she could see wall, but it was impossible to tell if that was an end or simply a corner. She looked back at the door, and found she was already grasping the handle within her white-knuckled fist. Utterly disconnected, she watched herself twist the knob and push through door, trading one corridor for another. 

There were [i]things[/i] on the other side, and all the mystery of the door's appearance was subsumed by a rapid resurgence of the fear that had been spurring her sprint. 

[i]girl in white, feels familiar, clinical, hospital, endless prodding and poking, needles and saws and tests and I'm running but running from [b]what[/b], running from [b]that[/b], can't remember [b]what[/b] or [b]why[/b] just run [b]run RUN[/b][/i]

[i]creature is huge and monstrous and an insect, afraid of bugs afraid of monsters, can't be real lives in the labyrinth wants to trap you wants to destroy you, wants to keep you here to fade away and die be forgotten behind stone walls. run. don't let them close around you. run. run.[/i]

[i]small girl is a joke, look how little you are Poe, look how pointless you are Poe, look how insignificant and lost you are Poe, just like a child, like a fairy like an imp, like a little girl who hasn't grown up doesn't know herself doesn't know where she is or where she was or where she's going. keep running. what will you find. you will find nothing. you are nothing. just a little girl, crying in the deep dark.[/i]

Poe turned away and ran and she realised, with a terrible deep fear, that the strangers followed. But Poe was fast; this was [i]her[/i] mind, [i]her[/i] labyrinth, and even if she didn't know it, [i]it[/i] knew [i]her[/i] and it gave her paths, corners, a great winding circuit to lose her pursuers but by the grace of god they were fast and they were cunning - and Poe wasn't sure they were real; and if they weren't, then they were her too, as much as the labyrinth was, and she'd never lose them. How do you run through yourself, from yourself? 

Panic climbed in Poe in a recursive pattern, feeding into itself to amplify the terror, and she could feel her vision fading as the adrenaline and hyperventilation and sheer emotional overload threatened to blot her out completely; finally, mercifully, the Finite Passage threw her a bone: another door, picked for no discernible reason, and she crashed through it like a girl with no other options. The last things through her mind before she passed out completely were the small girl holding the door behind her and noticing she had wings, and the realization that the other side of the door lead not to more endless stone corridors, but to a bright, well-lit rec-room.[/color]

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[color=darkgray]Poe had had little time since coming back around following her - and her apparent compatriots' - latest impromptu trip through the Finite Passage, but she'd been caught up on the basics during her escort from the facility's infirmary to her erstwhile living quarters, a practical but comfortable two-person dorm room, surprisingly well-equipped despite the obvious unexpected nature of her arrival. They'd tumbled out of the labyrinth into San Francisco, specifically the AEGIS junior facility built from the once-crumbling walls of Alcatraz penitentiary itself. Said facility had, that same day, welcomed a new set of 'attendees', who'd apparently already managed to cause their fair share of dramatics during their still short-lived tenure; the arrival of Poe and the others was just the feather in the proverbial cap, and administration at that point had decided they'd quite had enough and quickly enforced a curfew, remanding everyone back to their dorms.

With where they [i]were[/i] solved, the next obvious question was where they'd [i]come from[/i]. Poe had low expectations here, given her addled state of mind, but AEGIS had surprised her here, too; facial tracking and recognition worked quick these days it seemed, and the cameras spread across Alcatraz had flagged her to the as-yet-elusive Director mere minutes after she crashed to the floor in the rec-room. Poe Navidson, in one minute held at another AEGIS facility based in Washington, the next tumbling out of the air on the other side of the continent. They'd reached out to her previous facility with an urgency that usual bureaucratic belligerence could neither stifle nor deny, and determined her identity, the length and circumstances of her stay, and a basic rundown of what was understood of her nature; everything else would be issued soon, once collated and encrypted. Apparently, there was a sizeable file dating back many years on the young Ms. Navidson, and she was something of a unique case. Even more peculiar, two of the other arrivals - Quinn and Kaiden - were due to be welcomed at the same facility that very day. What bearing this had on their inclusion in Poe's journey wasn't bothered to be speculated on.

It was with a sense of great relief, though this would not be revealed to Poe herself, that her accidental extrication from one AEGIS complex had resulted in her internment at another.

[i]Now[/i], all Poe wanted to do was fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, and she had been assured that the the remaining doses circulating her system would allow her to do so with little difficulty; however, [i]little difficulty[/i] was, at this present time, proving to be ironically prophetic. Quinn, her erstwhile roommate, was making a shocking amount of noise for one so unassuming in stature. Poe just curled up in her bunk, burying her face in her knees and pressing her forehead against the cool concrete wall, trying to block out the world around her and fall asleep.

[COLOR=FFC300][b]"FUCK!"[/b][/color] Quinn yelled, startling Poe and rattling her already-shaken mind. She looked over her shoulder, only to see the be-winged girl pointing at her, one aggressive and accusatory finger stretching in her direction. [color=FFC300]"It was you, wasn't it? With all that labyrinth bullshit! Come on now; conjure up one of those doors so I can get the [i]hell[/i] out of here!"[/color]

Poe began to cry. She didn't know why she was here; she didn't know why she'd left the last place, didn't know if it was on purpose or by accident, if it was her choice or theirs, if it was the [i]labyrinth's[/i] choice. And now, here she was, in a place she neither knew nor understood nor desired, trapped again with someone blaming and yelling, asking not only the impossible of her but the unfathomably terrifying. Go back into the labyrinth? Poe wished, every second with every fibre, that the labyrinth had never even existed - and this [i]girl[/i], this [i]stranger[/i], [b]demanded[/b] of her to simply open it up - open herself up - and let her walk its paths in search of non-specific 'out'. For all Poe knew, the labyrinth [i]was[/i] 'out', and that thought was more horrifying than any other.

[COLOR=FF0000]"I can't."[/color] She answered, her voice smooth and calm and low, despite the steady stream of tears from her eyes as she sat up, turning around to face Quinn and her accusing finger. [COLOR=FF0000]"It's not a place. It's not conjured. We didn't get here through a labyrinth. We got here through [i]me[/i], through my [b]head![/b] And I... I just want to sleep. Just for a bit."[/color] She faltered, unable to project strength any longer. [COLOR=FF0000]"[sub]Please... I can't go back in there...[/sub]"[/color].[/color]