[sometimes, wanda thinks about the fantastical nature of many of the things she has experienced in abraxas—in the horizon itself. many things that don't stem from magic, necessarily, but definitely from imagination and memories. and yet it is so real. her knees against the stone floor ache as she rests her weight on them, smiling lightly as the skeleton of this girl accepts the rose, curtsies, and offers a polite word of thanks.

rousma, then, draws a sense of endearment from wanda. she speaks of her brother, revealing more than she is sure he would like being said about himself to a relative stranger he feels cautious about.]

I also had an older brother. Pietro. [is what she offers, leaning forward a little more, a secret between little sisters.] They're the best kind of person to have, aren't they?

[lightly, she touches one of the skeletal hands that hold onto the rose, just for a small connection, before letting her hands fall back onto her lap.]

You can call me Wanda. It's nice to meet you, Rousma.