TWELVE
[Clarice is in her room, sitting on her bed -- her head in her hands. She looks absolutely drained; her face is somewhat sunken in.
A soft mutter here and there.
The current events have her worried and sleep-deprived.]
What... happens when you die here? [The concept isn't new to her in the least, but recent sights have shaken her nerves far too much.]
Are you dead, and that's it? Or is there more? Or less?
[She looks to the side, now facing the Forge.] These... are pretty silly questions, aren't they?