Lyre wakes up, and cannot breathe, gasping. Looking down, she shudders - a corset? What had possessed her, of all things, to wear something would constrict around her belly and prevent her from taking the breaths needed to sing and perfo-<br/><br/>Hubbub and chaos. Lyre rolls to her knees, staring at the various recumbent features, and observing that they, too, were dressed impractically in the nature-wear. "I -- who are you -- hang on, weren't we all men before?"<br/><br/>Rummaging through her memory offers no answers, although the outfit was rather fetching. Still, this was no time to be distracted. "Is everybody safe? Alive?"