[Static first, then the forge turns on a moment after it hits the ground, apparently having fallen out of the pocket of its possessor. In the extreme foreground at the bottom of the screen is a discarded black shirt. Further back sits the owner of both articles, her gray jacket held against her chest and her knees drawn up to her chin. Her eyes are
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Please leave the ruins.
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I'm already moving.
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The mist is cruel today.
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It is.
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