[Firefly still holds so much fondness for Penacony in her heart. How could she not love a world where she can move, taste, touch like normal? Where she can pretend to be normal?

But... she understands. With the bubbles of unrest beginning to swell around them... it's starting to seem like Penacony will be turning into a Nightmare soon.]

Everything feels a little brighter. [Which might seem like a silly thing to say, compared to all the time they spent in the Golden Hour, but... not really in that sense.] Like... there's not a filter over what you're seeing.

[She glances down, lifting her hand up with her palm facing upwards. Slowly she curls her fingers inward, one by one, until she makes a fist, then slowly uncurls it.]

... And it feels real, too.