[Dying does have the tendency to be a mood-dampener, and Evelyn had thought her multiple experiences with death (three times in Wonderland, all horrific in their own right) might make it considerably easier to death with how it feels now.

It hasn't, not yet, and she isn't holding her breath. She doesn't have that anymore, either.]

Dipper.

[Softly, gently, and with no small amount of relief that he appears unharmed at the moment she gets up from her desk. It isn't fair to a twelve-year-old who reminds her so much of her son Alex watching, holding onto his uncle Jonathan, staring at his parents in shock while his father panicked to burden him with what happened, particularly when he appears to have lost something of his own. A tangible weariness clings to him and she empathises deeply, the cord of motherhood cut and desperately wanting to hold a child in a time of need.]

It was tiring, [she supplements instead, moving to greet him and resting a handle on his shoulder.] But nothing insurmountable. Do you want to talk about what happened?

[She smiles and the edges are a little sharp, not wanting to stretch too far when she's already paper-thin.]

I have some experience of my own in reanimating the dead.