The windows were shut with drapes of purple that brushed across the floor—the lamps were all alit down the halls she walked down. Her boots clacked and echoed; no people around her other than the occasional guard.
Jotou peered down at her attire, the same one from the battle. There lingered no marks of gunpowder nor blood or sand. Her fingers and palms were smooth from being healed.
She walked alone in the yellow glow, silent with nothing but the footsteps, the low humming of electrical lights and the thoughts that filled her head.
As she absentmindedly examined her adventuring gear, she noticed small rips and tears within the white of the dress. As well as some on the yellow coat.
Many of the enchantments placed on it were for convenience after all, dirt and grime would not even adhere to the clothing. Enchantments that made it breathable for the heat and insulated for the cold made it quite the resilient garment.
