( one impossible task at a time )
Right, so.
In Xanadu, there's this garden - quiet, a little apart from the daily grind of the rest of the city. It's a memorial garden and as such it has its fair share of statues, some notable and some less so. The name of one of these reads Gates Enfys Keel Eddings above a simple inscription and two dates, and this isn't the way Enfys imagined coming face to face with this particular phenomenon of interdimensional travel.
She knows the theory; she's been collecting atlases for months now, tracking geographical and political variations between worlds like her own and knowing, in theory, that maybe in some of those there might be girls with her name and her face living their own lives. (Dying their own deaths.)
This woman was older than she is (would've been younger if they'd met at corresponding periods in the timeline- her notebook is in her hand but she isn't writing anything down); she's never devoted that much thought to her own mortality, but it strikes her that thirty-eight is further than she's ever envisioned herself getting.
Enfys has been sitting beside the statue of Mrs Eddings for about half an hour when she starts digging around in her tote for the camera she knows she put in there the other day.