That tumbling feeling and high-born pressure set in again. It fell backwards from her mind, her body, the distinct sensation of viewing from outside of her body as a sudden disinterest left claws to dig into her skin. Watching? Waiting. Watching? Hungering. Waiting while she watched, hungering as she fed. Watching Bellatrix kneel, stand, bleed. Watching pale skin turn ashen, watching curved horns that glittered beneath the wavering candlelight. Watching as a piercing gaze deepened upon the form of a sleeping woman.