What is she supposed to do? Turn away, unacceptable risk. Cease chase, unacceptable outcome. Already committed. Already obligated. Have to catch up, have to ask questions. Have to. 

Tuck body, backside 540 into melancholy air, pull board to -- is. Is that? Yuki Edogawa? What is she do-- colors! Running colors smearing colors colors all over colors in her skirt colors in her hair get them out get them out she can't get them out how do you wash them away?

She was. Warned. About this. Unlovable fool, Eclair.

Noise. Noise noise noise, too loud too loud too loud too loud too loud too loud!!

Hands lift off board. Hands clamp over ears. Eyes squeeze shut, overwhelmed, overwhelmed. Read and prepared for, outmatched, defeated, make it stop please just make it sto--

Landing. With no grip on her board and no eyes on her landing, Eclair cannot stomp through. Her processes are broken up by useless whimpers and admonitions. Thoughts worse than useless and senses willfully turned off and attention actively diverted toward stopping all the things she needs to keep going. 

She cannot push through this. She cannot stick the landing. Her skateboard goes skidding out from under her feet and Eclair Espoir crashes violently into the ground. Feet first, then knees, and now back as she rolls and bounces and tumbles inelegantly across the Welcoming Plaza with the deafening clatter of her armor bruising her soft body in the name of protecting her bones, crash and clatter and the tearing of messy skirts upon the stone street until with a final horrifying crack she collides with the fountain and stops all at once.

Collapse onto floor. Hands on ears, hand on ears. Noises, animal noises. Quiet, quiet, quiet. Not quiet. Need quiet. Please quiet. Where did? Just. Come. Please come. Please come ba-- please come, please come back. Answer. Just, just, j-j-j-just say...

Why?

Tears force their way through Eclair's tight clenched eyes. Her teeth grind together and drool escapes her lips as well, her entire face determined to leak and ruin her decorum and her station. But she does not cry. Does not wail or sob. Instead she shudders. Her voice is small and shattered, stuttering the beginning of a word or a sound that could express the sensations trying to explode out of her but never quite getting there. 

Cease. Reclose mouth. Pivot, wipe mouth on shoulder, tuck legs into chest. Cease, cease. Breathe and sink. No more. What's a 'Hazel'? No more.