[ so much about this world is still overwhelming. bitterblue wonders if it'll always stay that way or if she will grow used to it, if she will be able to turn the advances and novelties into something smaller, something manageable, something she can make sense of eventually.

(she wishes she was not here. she hopes her people will not suffer for her absence and knows, at the same time, that they will. they still need her —they need her so much and she wishes they were more able to stand on their own, but too many years of her father's reign have made it impossible.

no, they need her and she is not there.)

it is overwhelming and horrible and she can sit and breathe through it and do math problems in her head, but she's also found that food generally helps and so she is peering at the offerings at one of the food trucks, a small, young woman with dark hair, shorter now than she has ever worn it, dressed in something non-descript. easily overlooked. ]

Is there anything with bacon?

[ bacon tends to drastically improve any situation. ]

What happens to our homes while we are here? Does time move on, are we missed? Or is it that if we return, is seems as though we had never left?