The sky sharpens to blue long before the sun comes over the distant mountains. Light enough to write by.

As soon as she'd seen Shokyou's blank notebook she'd begged for it, and she didn't regret it. Not only was it a treasure in its own right, imitating Dulcinea's process of writing everything down in real time was as relaxing as she'd imagined it to be. Her pens flowed, curling past each other in intricate dance, a waterfall of celestial calligraphy. The first hand was dedicated to marking all the strange flows of physical sensation, the second was detailing everyone she'd met here so far, their traits and possible interactions, the third was reflecting on the place itself and the strange manifestations of physical law, and the fourth held a large mug of corrupting acid Shokyou called 'orange juice' to her lips. She reflected in motion, like a sky caught in a mountaintop river.

She paused and looked up at the sun as it crested the horizon, pursing her lips thoughtfully, tapping her self-pen against her lips as the others continued to write.

She sun turned around and went back the way it came, dipping back below the horizon.

[i]Never backwards, never down, unmoving am I, the worlds are drawn to me, bound by me, the center point, I will hold them close and bring them love and never ever fall[/i]

The self-pen lowered back to the paper and noted its observations on the return of the water-response. It continued to do so until the sun rose over the horizon for the second time, and the pain in her chest loosened a little.

Finally, as Shokyou blearily emerges from the little house with a bowl of cereal, she folds away her arms and closes the notebook. She took a deep breath and her mind cleared in a moment, organizing and clarifying. She was again called to duty. She took a perverse little pleasure in standing and giving a formal bow to Shokyou - she'd never been [i]outranked[/i] before, but such was the nature of being a guest. She had already come to the conclusion that Shokyou was a Buddha - who else could live so simply? Who else could seem so tranquil? 

She needed to be careful. Buddhas were dangerous.

She accepts the cereal and starts to diligently eat it using her pens as chopsticks, not understanding the significance of the spoon that came with it. As the taste sets in she stares at it in shock for a moment.

"There really are infinite varieties of ramen," she murmurs. "Thank you for your gift, Awakened One."