Things have been… blurry.
Not in the literal sense. There’s nothing wrong with her eyes, but rather a disconnect between them and her brain. It’s like she’s been watching the world through a fish eye lens, like everything happening to her is occurring beyond the boundaries of the glass.
E5’s thoughts are clearer than they have been in what she fears is a substantial amount of time. Her surroundings are different, the cosy warmth of Fred’s room exchanged for incandescent bulbs and dust and noise.
There’s a breeze gently playing with her hair. Sunlight glances off a tiled floor, the squares yellowed and coated in a thin layer of dirt from disuse. Crickets and birds chirp in the distance, their music like something right out of a video from her tablet.
She’s in an alcove of some kind, with pale tan signs dangling off a hook on her left. Similar alcoves line the building, with names scrawled on signs attached to each one.
She’s afraid to speak, to move. From where she’s positioned, she can just barely see the outline of what looks to be a tank, a familiar head peeping out of it.
@aquatic-anxiety @thepoultryprincess