"Though I'm not quite sure how something like this managed to show up here, I'm not unhappy."
In fact, she's quite visibly elated: clutching a doll in her arms, the toy's blue dress and long light-blond hair a welcome, well-missed comfort. Silly as it was given her age, she was worried she'd never see the doll again; the very same item had caused her years of comatose status and a long hospital stay, but as her sister'd never wanted her back...the little doll had become Rachel's (renamed Paulownia, or Polly, the doll had become a constant companion).
There were, of course, other things the seller'd had -- Fenrir logo'd items, a hat bearing Friar and BLOOD's insignias...she could return for those later, if she wanted. Perhaps she could believe someone else would be here someday, or maybe be amused by the idea someone had turned around back home and found their hat and other items simply gone. But her doll was a far more important than the others, for now, prioritized in comfort as humans are wont to do.
She regards her companion with a gentle smile; he's very lovely, radiant, quite literally similar to descriptions of angels -- she thinks of the stained glass in Friar's high rooms, and the photos from the churches in the former city districts. Perhaps somewhere out there, angels of some type were real: if her world could have artificial gods, perhaps his could have...whatever he truly is.
"You should check some of the other stalls. They may have something sentimental too."
@fairhelios NO PLACE LIKE HOME DECOR.
