Morrighan/Paul POV
I’m tired. Or at least I was.
The depths were cold, the darkness overwhelming.
I knew something or someone had come, and that everything was alright, but they were too late.
Paul…or should I call you now Morrighan?
I blinked. Slowly at first, then quickly sat up.
Now I remember.
I’m back.
Back at the white hall, a strange field which transforms and shifts according to the whims of its permanent creator and residents.
The first time I was here, I was in my navy blue coat, holstered guns, light blue dress shirt, dark gray pants with a matching-colored tie, and black shoes — my detective working clothes, basically.
Now, I was in my raggedy slave outfit. My hands had shrunk and looked quite tempting to put some nail polish on, my feet bare, and I have… a chest.
