A blue haired woman lay on the ground, limbs haphazardly spread around her.  Countless flowers swayed in the passing breeze, one inevitably brushing against the sleeping figure’s face.  The woman frowned in irritation, a hand reaching up to brush the annoyance aside.  The flower complied, momentarily, before the wind pushed it into the woman’s face once more.  Again, she unconsciously swatted it away.  Back and forth the flower and the hand battled before finally the flora won by drawing the woman from her slumber.<br/><br/>Blue eyes opened slowly, fluttered closed, and then tried once more.  Her second attempt was more successful and the blurry greens, browns, and whites sharpened into images: stalks, flowers, and sky.  It felt—nonthreatening.  She felt—lazy? here.  With a sigh, the woman closed her eyes once more to enjoy the sensation.  Or she would have, if something hadn’t spoken up.  Blue eyes slid in the direction of the inquiry:<span style="font-style: italic">“I assume you are also suffering from a small bought amnesia?  If not, then please inform me what we why we are here in a flower garden?”</span><br/><br/>A shadow slid over her as something stood up, raggedy phoenix wings arching in a stretch.  Had he been addressing her?  But somehow she didn’t think it was her; the curve of the wings suggested the speaker’s back was to her.  Regardless, she didn’t have the answers, so she didn’t bother speaking up.  Instead, her head lolled back to its previous position and she closed her eyes once more.  Again, peace was not to be attained.  Yet another voice spoke up and she found herself instinctively looking in that direction despite not knowing why.  Who cared if another female was speaking?  She certainly didn’t.  And yet she found herself listening in as yet another speaker professed their ignorance, trying to analyze the voice.  Female. Young. First annoyed, then calm, then confused.  That meant—what? What did it mean?<br/><br/>She didn’t know.<br/><br/>Should she know?<br/><br/>There was no answer to that question, at least not one that she could conjure.  She blinked once. Twice.  And then decided if she couldn’t think up the answer, it must not have been that important.  So she closed her eyes once more and tried to go back to sleep.  For a reason she couldn’t determine, she felt it was important to enjoy this sensation of non-threat.