[64] [action]
[An experiment is going on. Nephry knows this and has known for days. She's been in the jungle again, in the desert, and trapped in the same room, going through the exit only to come in through the entrance again. It makes almost no sense at all, and that made it so easy to remember that it wasn't anything real.
This morning she wakes up in her room in Keterburg.
The word 'experiment' isn't anywhere in her mind as she rises and stares at the bed, the fon lamp, the art on one wall. Out the window, snow is falling. She doesn't even bother to put on proper clothes before hurrying through the door and into her office.
Her office. One hand trails over the lid of the teapot, a small row of books, the emblem set into the back of the chair. Across the room, to a low bookshelf and the things that live there. A doll. A framed picture.
Home. She does manage to remember a coat before running - running - to throw open the front door and stare at her city in the snow. And smile.
It's when the breeze picks up and she shivers, and the wings shiver, that she finally realized this is just as false as the rest of it has been. Even though she could touch it. She puts a hand on the doorframe, then leans her whole self against it, visibly defeated.
...Perhaps it might be of some benefit to experience this while it lasts. It may be her last look at home, even a false one, for a long time. It takes her no time at all to change, and go back outside to walk slowly through the snow, heedless of any arctic monsters that might be lurking about.]
This morning she wakes up in her room in Keterburg.
The word 'experiment' isn't anywhere in her mind as she rises and stares at the bed, the fon lamp, the art on one wall. Out the window, snow is falling. She doesn't even bother to put on proper clothes before hurrying through the door and into her office.
Her office. One hand trails over the lid of the teapot, a small row of books, the emblem set into the back of the chair. Across the room, to a low bookshelf and the things that live there. A doll. A framed picture.
Home. She does manage to remember a coat before running - running - to throw open the front door and stare at her city in the snow. And smile.
It's when the breeze picks up and she shivers, and the wings shiver, that she finally realized this is just as false as the rest of it has been. Even though she could touch it. She puts a hand on the doorframe, then leans her whole self against it, visibly defeated.
...Perhaps it might be of some benefit to experience this while it lasts. It may be her last look at home, even a false one, for a long time. It takes her no time at all to change, and go back outside to walk slowly through the snow, heedless of any arctic monsters that might be lurking about.]