Ava's sneakers hit the outermost glass shards with a dainty crrrunch.

Absent, her voice low, "Not really."


(The demon is present but not physically here. It can smash lights and make it cold and send shivers down your spine, but it can't take a shape-- or anyone else's.

Ava finds it comforting, clawing at the doors in her mind.

Doors are made of wood, and wood comes from trees ...)