[@AeonSpiral]

The inside of the room is consumed by beige fog, every surface is gritty, covered in sand... If she looked behind her, she would find that sand seemed to have aggregated at the bottom of the bath. She left an imprint of her face and feet in it as she got up. Light poured in a bright beam from the door lens. The lens itself seems to have been removed, however...

The whistling still emanated from below the balcony, crisp and clear as ever. "I Feel Pretty" by West-Side story... That's not a good sign.