[h3]Nazca Whitehall[/h3][i]Clockwork Autumn[/i]

For Nazca, her last conscious waking thought was savoring the beef bourguignon at Jeanne’s delicious dinner party. 

As far as she was concerned, the next moment, she was in an infirmary bed, surrounded by the typical overly sterile atmosphere that hospitals were wont to present. 

Her immediate following thought was confusion, and then [i]pain.[/i]. Although she wasn’t aware of it yet, much of her body had been scorched and burned, although by how she felt and how she had been bandaged, it was clear what the damage was from. Her hair, as beloved as it was, was a lost cause.

But how? What the hell had happened to her? Wasn’t she simply eating dinner with… Jeanne?

The injured girl groaned, wincing in pain as she shifted positions to look around. She was far too injured to immediately jolt up. Nonetheless, her surprise, her room was quite crowded; the participants in last night’s –to her just a few minutes ago—dinner party were essentially all there. Jeanne included.

[b]“Wh—”[/b] She broke out into a cough, her throat overly dry from whatever ordeal she had gone through, as her eyes locked on to the nearest visitor. [b]“What… happened?”
[/b]