Elsa and OTA
Elsa ran her hands through her hair, loosing her messy fringe from its icy hold. She didn't need to look around to know that the dream situation had just escalated; the dark, desolate feeling seated in the middle of her chest did that for her. When the dreams had started, she'd known that something else was happening. There were advantages to being generally pessimistic - she always assumed that new, unknown things were precursors to new, bad things, and this time, she'd been right.
She was quickly growing tired of feeling afraid and victimized. Her anxiety and fear of her power, while still potent, had been quelled some by the influence of Anna and her relentless positivity. It meant that she actually believed that she didn't have to be this person - the one constantly searching for a way to crawl into herself to make sure that the only person she ruined was herself.
This recollection caused a wayward surge of confidence to shoot through her, cutting through the fog of worry that was overcoming her. She had no desire to die again, so she needed to find a way out of here.
She took a purposeful step, ignored that her foot hadn't actually touched anything, and began searching.