[Introduction] A rise from the ashes, indeed...

[awomanthorned]

The usual darkness was slowly filled with light, gradually increasing in intensity until it almost hurt. Dahlia Hawthorne groaned in irritation.

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[x_postal_ines]

Smoker on the porch, and rather amused with herself (people are so fun to poke, in this place!)

Here is Ines, not a very nice woman, dead as well, and rather... idly observing the passersby on the porch.

She might be waiting for someone - or maybe that's what she wants you to think.

[awomanthorned]

As Dahlia approaches the porch, she notices the woman. Her intuition says something is a little different about this woman, but she can't say what.

"Hello," she says with a sweet smile.

[x_postal_ines]

"Hello," Ines replies, and glances at the new girl. Like candy with a hard center, or something like that. She reminds Ines of British peppermints.

She blows a long plume of smoke from her GauloiseTM.

[awomanthorned]

Dahlia covers her mouth and nose with a hand and coughs delicately.

"Nice weather, isn't it?" she comments glancing back onto the lawn. "Is it always so lovely here?"

[x_postal_ines]

Ines turns so that her smoke is in the wind, but not going towards Dahlia's face. Pretty girls shouldn't cough to death. It's more courtesy than Light got, at any rate.

"I couldn't tell," Ines replies. "It rains sometimes, I suppose. Does it matter much?"

Cue another long drag of her smoke, blown in the opposite direction. Willing to make an effort, but not willing to put it out, is what Ines is saying.

[awomanthorned]

"No, I suppose it doesn't. Perhaps we should take full advantage of it while it lasts." She smiles at Ines.

"My name is Dahlia Hawthorne," she introduces herself. "And you are?"

[x_postal_ines]

"Ines Seranno," she replies, and offers her a hand, without gloves. "Paris, after the Great War," she adds, expecting to be asked.

[awomanthorned]

Dahlia takes the hand, but looks very confused. It takes her a moment to understand what Ines means.

"Oh!" she exclaims, her mouth making a delicate circle. "Is that where you were, before... here?"

[x_postal_ines]

She nods, and shrugs. "After a fashion." Not exactly. She was in hell, first. "And yourself?"

[awomanthorned]

"Los Angeles, California. 2018." Dahlia looks a little embarrassed and awkward about the time gap. She wonders if this woman is dead as well, but she doesn't want to give that away about herself.

"I-I suppose it's true what they say about time and relativity," she stammers.

[x_postal_ines]

"That and a few other things. They're not always wrong," Ines replies. She takes a puff, then offers Dahlia a cigarette. "You look like you could use one."

[awomanthorned]

Dahlia declines politely. "No, thank you, I don't smoke. Though, if I did, it probably would make me feel better," she admits.

"This whole... times overlapping thing is going to take some getting used to," she says. "But I don't think I'll be leaving any time soon."

[x_postal_ines]

Ines laughs, it's musical and girlish, a bit silvery, but also a bit cutting. "Ah, yes. I don't know where you would be going if you tried," she replies.

[awomanthorned]

"Absolutely nowhere," Dahlia mutters dryly as she looks out onto the grounds.

[x_postal_ines]

Ines nods. "That is a very correct assumption. This is an upgrade, compared to their previous set-up."

She's already come to the conclusion that this pretty little one is dead, like her.

[awomanthorned]

Anything would've been an upgrade from the limbo where I've been... Dahlia thinks in disdain.

"Oh?" she asks. "You must have been here a long time, then. What was it like before?"