Behind that luminescent blue, behind the twist of power that tries to sooth the struggling CT, tries to calm her- there's a green glow. Delta having taken root and taken over, similar threads of green shot through the wires that now wind and curl, grasping at her skin. No Neural port to invade, here, and a corded mass attempts to force it's way past her lips, thinner tendrils curling to slide up her nostrils for a more...direct attempt at reaching her brain.

All he has to do is tap in and then? She would see. That this place is where they belong. That it's safe here, that they can be a part of something greater than them again-

With jerky, twitching movements York's hands are moved up to clasp at her elbows, holding her still while the wires do their work.