Satandir frowns. She definitely doesn't remember there being nothing at all, when she was dead, even if it had been terrible and empty.

She swallows. (Or at least, she makes the external appearance of swallowing. There is, of course, nothing inside her transparent neck to swallow with except for a few falling grains of sand.) She really hopes Brimstone is right, and that he wasn't really dead. She so badly wanted, before, to be okay with death, she'd felt as if she should be, but it's harder than she thought it would be.

She keeps quiet for a while, glancing from Livingston to Brimstone and back again as they talk, not sure how to feel about any of this.

"It's over," she says, "You aren't dead any more," but she can't convince herself that that makes it okay, even though the first thing she ever knew when she woke up here was that it did.