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Ampoule dared to look down at herself, to see if she herself had become non-corporeal; a thing of mists. She was mildly surprised when she had not, and she was as real as the ground she stood upon. As solid as the others who had gathered here, distinctly real when cast upon a backdrop of the things-that-weren’t. It was another realm entirely, full of heavenly beauty and subtle rainbows. Ampoule felt the internal impulse to call out to the others, or towards perhaps the ghostly figures,
– but in the end all she ended up doing was side-stepping, almost stumbling, a pace or two closer to the others who watched, and her eyes remained transfixed, not sure what to do next but certain that it would come to her eventually.
It always came to her, eventually.


