"No. No."

She shakes her head. If Daisy did bite her, if she walked away, if she came in with threats to ensure that she and her own would be safeguarded, it would all be warranted. It would all be deserved. No one knows better how dangerous she is than herself.

"I used to be. But whatever faith I had was lost to the same place that my memories went."

And every memory of being faithful is a joy she cannot connect to anything else. Every death she inflicts brings that same wild ecstasy that it does in recollections, that same frenzy setting in, but it isn't her sole purpose for being. The world cannot be offered up as a sacrifice when there is so much in it. The dissonance strikes her, frightens her. That both who she is now, standing before Daisy, and the woman who was poised to answer the bloodiest call are the same. She's the same. She's still capable of everything she remembers. Everything she fantasizes about. Only the circumstances have changed.

"That part isn't coming back."

Even if she remembers everything, one day. Which seems less and less likely the more time slips by.