[color=lavender]The pivotal moment. It was a thing of inevitability in every hero’s life. That moment when everything fell into place, when the right choice bled into clarity, when the person in that moment knew exactly what needed to be done.

That moment for Teresa was now. Or–it [i]had[/i] been. Teresa stumbled to a stop, sword in hand, breaths hot and heavy. She blinked once. Twice.

The bar around her didn’t go away. The wood beneath the soles of her boots remained. The faint scent of fireplace smoke tickled her nose. The soft chatter of other patrons drifted around her. None of them seemed particularly bothered at her sudden appearance.

She knew this place, but it was... off. For one, it didn’t usually have a fireplace. For two, she didn’t recognise anyone here. Not the bartender, not the patrons, not the server wandering through the space. Her mind raced with questions – [i]what happened how did I get here who did this[/i] – only to settle on the most important thing: she needed to get [i]back[/i].

Now, if anyone were looking at her, they would be greeted with a sorry sight indeed. Her silver costume coated in soot and dust; the fringe of her turquoise hair plastered to her face with sweat; and a cut slashed across her right bicep, splitting flesh and fabric alike. Clearly, she had come from somewhere far from the idyllic nature of this apparent bar she found herself in the middle of now.

Despite the panic racing in her veins, Teresa allowed a tense, neutral expression to slide over her face as she sheathed her sword into the hilt hanging off her belt. No matter where she had been before, there were civilians here. She couldn’t cause a fuss. She just needed to leave, get back to where she needed to be and everything would be okay. They had to be. It was with this thought in mind that she strode over to the bar’s entrance and pulled open the wooden door.

Cosmic colours greeted her. Not space, exactly. It was more akin to an abyss, a deep, gaping maw of black lit up by ethereal trails of hot and cold hues. There wasn’t much else Teresa picked up; hard to do that when she immediately slammed the door shut. She looked out the windows. They showed nothing but the same street she’d always seen. She looked around the bar, wary. Nothing had changed since she had appeared here. She was in a place that she [i]should[/i] know – and yet, everything felt off-kilter. Her gaze fixed onto the server by the fireplace, drawn by their jarring solidity. In a few quick steps, Teresa approached them and drew her sword, pointing its tip at their neck. She paid no mind to the patron they were addressing. There was no need to.

‘[b]Your illusion[/b],’ she says, voice low. ‘[b]Undo it. Now.[/b]’

For what else could this be than a distraction?[/color]