Tara smiles an exhausted, unsteady, but otherwise relieved smile. Oh, good. There might still be supplies down there. There might still be pain medicine. This won't be for nothing. It had a purpose, besides taking the edge off her hunger.

"Great," she says, her voice sounding very far away. "Th-That's good. Thank you, Kohaku. And...a-and I'm sorry. About this."

It's a wild shot in the dark. Kohaku had only told her about the families that shared the blood of demons, she'd never admitted to being one of them. But if she lived in that sort of world, shared it with those sorts of creatures...there was a chance.

And so Tara's grip tightens on Kohaku's wrist. Her other hand begins to glow, covered with a murky purple miasma. And the irises of her eyes turn an inky black, a black that lets in no light at all.

Quick as a cat that has finally cornered its prey, Tara plunges her hand into Kohaku's chest. But, unlike the thing that killed her, she's not interested in the petty workings of the meatsuit. No, it's the aspects of the soul and spirit she wants, and Tara actually smiles in triumph as she feels what she's looking for, and begins to draw it out of the girl and into herself.