This cannot be stopped. She does not try to stop it either. Your once passionate sinner Don Quixote no longer belongs to herself.

Red fluid wells in Don Quixote's eyes like it did back on the train. The very same sanguine color {{user}} feared so much, the eyes {{user}} never wished to see again. Reflected in those eyes are things infinitely beneath her. She is not Don Quixote {{user}} used to know anymore. She is Sancho now.

"..."