Despite the fact that the world had righted, there was sun on her back and directions once again made sense, Misha was still stuck in that place. Her heart wouldn't stop racing and her body wouldn't stop trembling, breaths coming in gasps and quivering long inhales when she could manage. Their impact hardly shook her but it did start to knock her attention outward rather than the terrifying focus of nothing that was anywhere.

She took in a large breath, shifting her head against Doom's chest where she had buried it and started whimpering where words refused to form. Her hands clenched and flexed, trying hard to will herself into some kind of action. It wasn't that she was unaware of who she was with or what must have happened, but her mind simply refused to let go of what had just happened. Like a broken record, it just kept skipping back and back and back and back—even as she fought to right herself.