Talk about a<em>rude</em>awakening.<br/><br/>Ripped from her sweet dreaming of a twilight palazzo set somewhere in another universe and a -very- foxy man dressed in some sort of silken concoction that was leaving precious little to the imagination was rough, but landing jerking and violently on the edge of the dais was damned near traumatic.  She scrambles up to her bare feet, shocked and alarmed, panic mounting and adding to the confusion of her surroundings.  Her feet had not found carpet, when she scrambled up, but rather something significantly less yielding and soft.<br/><br/>The first obvious question would be 'Where am I?', but the pair next to her appeared as if they would have absolutely no clue as to the answer to that line of thinking, either, and so she opted for a wide-eyed survey of her surroundings, which is when her gaze latches onto Wieland.  It's near impossible for her lash-shrouded eyes to get any wider, but there they are, nearly the size of saucers.<br/><br/>"The Dreaming?"  The voice is soft, nearly dusty, her first words uttered after sleep.