[ Most people would figure it to be a sort of illusion, but not Birdie, no. Magic is magic and magic does as it wills to, and who is the little baby phoenix to contradict it? It's hard to accept magic would choose her to come here when she's looking for the Stars to free magic from its prison. So, it's hard for her to understand why would people be so opposed to it, or more, why people would not believe that this right here is real
( ... )
[ She's cold. She's hallucinating. It's like in that movie: do you think it's air your breathing? Do you think it's the temperature that makes it cold? It's her mind, of course. Inexplicably so. She's always hated cold weather, used to ask her parents if they were moving somewhere warm and pout when she found out they weren't. So why imagine a winter wonderland? Why imagine a garden? Why imagine so many women?
To say nothing of the sound effects. They aren't right at all. You hear a bird chirp and you look up expecting to see a bird, not a bundled-up young woman with no birds in sight.
She shakes her head. Goodwin's side-effects were burns and occasional respiratory difficulties, not hallucinations. ]
So it wasn't the gas.
[ She mutters to herself, not caring if the phrase sounds confusing out of context. It wasn't the gas seeping in to an unsecured mask. It wasn't anything that could explain why she was seeing things that were incongruous to her psychology
( ... )
[ She blinks at those words, not making any sense out of them. She's not quite sure what gas is, either. The girl seems curious, big golden eyes watching Juliet. If she hadn't made that little sound, the woman could probably have felt those eyes on her. ]
Gas, is it, yes, maybe? [ It's a weird way, not very correct, fast, a bit skittish. She's just repeating the word, really, not making a question or offering an answer to this whole situation.
She's safe up there, on the snow-covered branch, so it's okay to be talking, though she is still wary and careful, a bit distrustful. ]
[ She looks up, eyebrow arched, one edge of her mouth curled up in a smirk. No sanity means she has no tact; she looks as if the young woman's just told her the obvious. ]
[ If Revan were any less aware of her surroundings, Juliet might well have run into her. But she stops short just before walking into the blonde woman, and frowns a little. ]
You look a little lost.
[ It's said gently, and with a slight smile. This is not the first time Revan has met someone who doesn't know where they are. Hell, that could have been her not so long ago. ]
[ Juliet pauses, staring at the woman. It makes a modicum of sense. Just a modicum: just because she isn't fashionable doesn't mean she'd imagine herself in such an outfit much less anyone else.
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To say nothing of the sound effects. They aren't right at all. You hear a bird chirp and you look up expecting to see a bird, not a bundled-up young woman with no birds in sight.
She shakes her head. Goodwin's side-effects were burns and occasional respiratory difficulties, not hallucinations. ]
So it wasn't the gas.
[ She mutters to herself, not caring if the phrase sounds confusing out of context. It wasn't the gas seeping in to an unsecured mask. It wasn't anything that could explain why she was seeing things that were incongruous to her psychology ( ... )
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Gas, is it, yes, maybe? [ It's a weird way, not very correct, fast, a bit skittish. She's just repeating the word, really, not making a question or offering an answer to this whole situation.
She's safe up there, on the snow-covered branch, so it's okay to be talking, though she is still wary and careful, a bit distrustful. ]
What is it, what? Will you tell me, yes?
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You tell me.
[ She has no idea what she's asking. Is it the gas? Is it a yes? A maybe? Not that Juliet can answer. Answers don't come from insane people. ]
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-A voice from above.-
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Or the rabbits will eat me?
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You look a little lost.
[ It's said gently, and with a slight smile. This is not the first time Revan has met someone who doesn't know where they are. Hell, that could have been her not so long ago. ]
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You're nice for a hallucination.
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Last time I checked I was pretty real. So's this place, even if it doesn't seem like it. Welcome to the Gardens.
[ It feels strange, welcoming her here even though she hasn't been here very long herself, but it's really the only thing to do. ]
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If you're real, where did you come from?
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Still. ]
It has its charm.
[ Beat.
Calmly, ]
I'm talking to myself.
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[She knows someone who is in shock, or isn't doing all that well mentally, when she sees one.]
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I'm fine. Thanks for asking.
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