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Well, it stank like piss, so it must have been the boy's washroom.

Verity closed her eyes, listening briefly to her surroundings, forcing her vision to adjust to the decreased light in her environment. She could hear the others. Not in another stall, but in a close-by room. Girl's washroom, same floor. What was the logic here? Was there any logic, here? She'd have to check the calendar date, but if the date itself hadn't changed, then that means, at the very least, time hadn't passed in too abnormal a fashion since they slipped from one world to another.

Her bare toes curled against the tiles. The spring had washed away the soil that had stuck to her feet, but now it was being soiled by something worse. Boys and their hygiene. They had a dick to aim with and yet, they're still so sloppy.

She opened her eyes. Reviewing her memories now, she recognized it too: Sofia [i]hadn't[/i] fallen into the spring. No, she had sailed a tremendous distance. A distance so massive that she had flew over all the palm trees, past the entire width of the beach, and crashed, presumably, into the ocean. Freshwater was home. Saltwater had lead them away from home. What would happen to someone who dove into the sea twice?

Verity marched out, footprints tracking the lonely hallways. She recognized the second floor, recognized which windows could become which exits, and popped open one of them with little concern, stepped out onto windowsill, then leapt. Caught a sturdy branch, let her momentum swing her towards the trunk, and then caught herself again, shimmying down the rough bark until she hit the grassy fields below. Dew cleaned her. Dirt coated it. Pavement scraped against it. And, some time after, wood heaved beneath it.

The dockhouse, bathed in moonlight. Everyone's clothing, gone. Collected by a good Samaritan, or perhaps...no, it didn't particularly matter to her. She stared out at the waves, blue ripples rendered in monochrome by darkness and reflection, consuming what scant stars shone brightly enough to be seen in sea. A breeze passed through, many times more hostile than the breeze at sunset, and Verity took in a breath.

The matter of her clothing, of her wallet, of her keys, of her phone, could all be left for another time. Now, however?

Well, it wouldn't be the first time she had to break into her own apartment.