Wind Patterns: A Fictional Narrative

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It had been a day or two since she had found herself at near maximum strength. She was walking about, enough that she thought she could go out onto the balcony to overlook out on Castle von Doom’s streets. There was no dizziness, nor was there any wobbling in her legs. Most importantly, she felt present. Even so, this new found strength with the desire to do more than that. As much as she heeded the doomaid’s advice to rest this last day, there was no real reason to be sitting her on her bedroom’s sheets. Thirty minutes had been spent meditating, trying to solidify an equilibrium in this part of the world. It came naturally, of course. But, she couldn’t help but be curious of the wind patterns. To feel the slightest shift in what just so happened to cut through the air outside of the walls she found herself confined to. It was decided then and there: she needed to get out of this room. So, she went on around into the bathroom. She found a variety of the essentials: toothpaste, toothbrush (still in a wrapper), mouthwash, comb, over-the-counter medication, not that she needed them with what the bots were giving her. In the very least, she is able to brush her teeth and look herself in the mirror. There were nearly gone bangs under her eyes and the laceration on her forehead was nearly gone. A scar…show more content…
It didn't make her feel entirely out of place, but it was something to ask Viktor about in the future. Maybe. For now, she was using the time that she hadn't been confined to her room and currently not aching for nourishment for exploration. Careful not to touch anything along her way. Everything in the Castle look medieval despite the decor’s modern flare. The dark, cheery wood floorings like marble beneath the pads of her toes and where she’d only assume a few decades ago held torches, were rounded over flame shaped

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