[Ginia is filled simultaneously with the sense she shouldn't be here and that this is exactly where she needs to be. It's an odd sensation because she has no idea where here even is, and the seconds before she remembers...
Ah. Laying down to sleep. Hadn't the guide mentioned something about the Displaced sometimes sharing dreams? Which means this is either her dream or someone else's.
Definitely not her dream. It's too nice, too calm, too... strange compared to what she normally knows. Ginia walks quietly among the shelves, staring a bit more wide-eyed at the odds and ends. It's dry, musty. She can feel a slight chill as her nanotech compensate against the temperature. Ginia rounds the corner, glancing over at where the shopkeeper is.
...It really doesn't clear anything up because the look is so wholly unique and distinctive and gorgeous. Ginia stares a few seconds longer before tearing her eyes away, a bit of heat on her cheeks.
Her eyes land on a shelf, at the handle of a knife sheathed and tucked away. She can't see it fully, but there's something familiar about the shape, the color, the slight scuffs on the guard. Her breath catches and Ginia knows if she held it, it'd fit perfectly in her palm. She reaches for it, fingers about to curl around--
--Ah. Ginia's hand hangs where it is as the shopkeeper speaks, slowly lowering it. An interesting inflection. She walks over to where the shopkeeper is, smiles and cants her head back toward the shelf.]
But what a good icon it is - Dreams
Ah. Laying down to sleep. Hadn't the guide mentioned something about the Displaced sometimes sharing dreams? Which means this is either her dream or someone else's.
Definitely not her dream. It's too nice, too calm, too... strange compared to what she normally knows. Ginia walks quietly among the shelves, staring a bit more wide-eyed at the odds and ends. It's dry, musty. She can feel a slight chill as her nanotech compensate against the temperature. Ginia rounds the corner, glancing over at where the shopkeeper is.
...It really doesn't clear anything up because the look is so wholly unique and distinctive and gorgeous. Ginia stares a few seconds longer before tearing her eyes away, a bit of heat on her cheeks.
Her eyes land on a shelf, at the handle of a knife sheathed and tucked away. She can't see it fully, but there's something familiar about the shape, the color, the slight scuffs on the guard. Her breath catches and Ginia knows if she held it, it'd fit perfectly in her palm. She reaches for it, fingers about to curl around--
--Ah. Ginia's hand hangs where it is as the shopkeeper speaks, slowly lowering it. An interesting inflection. She walks over to where the shopkeeper is, smiles and cants her head back toward the shelf.]
How much for the knife back there?
[Her signs are smooth as always.]