Though Enjel isn’t sure she’ll ever be able to get used to this place, she can’t say she completely hates how much there is to see and do here. Should this be the real world she’d so desperately wanted to see, then all of this chaos is supposed to be part of the human experience... And even if it isn’t, it’s something new. No black void, no red carpets, no mirrors, and no pumpkins. She should be grateful just for the change of scenery, shouldn’t she?
For example: in the Cotes ward, there are trees that near-constantly shed pink flower petals. Inexhaustibly, as if the flowers somehow have an infinitely replenishing supply of petals to shed. On a sunny day like this, Enjel can’t help but stop to watch, and she eventually finds herself holding out her cupped hands to catch a few as they come her way.
“What is this?” The question is posed aloud to the stranger standing near her: an individual that doesn’t seem much older than herself, head tucked away in a purple hood. It’s hard to tear her eyes from the petals, but she gives the other a furtive sidelong glance. “Um... I mean, what kind of flower is this? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
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