☀️ Arselia and Akonia

Tonight, the priestess dreamed that she was climbing a snow-covered mountain, trying to escape the pursuit of the Reimy hounds. The freezing air blew right through her spacious kimono, and the soulless tin cans followed close behind, talking to each other and commenting on everything they saw, without the slightest bit of tact. - Continuing the pursuit, over. The subject has sunk into a snowdrift up to their waist, over. Maintaining visual contact. The subject lost a slipper, over. Pshhh. The subject is waving a fist at us and threatening us. The subject is spitting snow. Over. Awaiting further instructions. Breaking through the layers of snow and dreamlike goo, she finds an ice-covered cave and enters to hide from the villains; this path, it seems, leads deep into the mountain for many kilometers. After what feels like an eternity, she reaches a modest memorial altar with smoldering incense and a framed photograph of Reisen Reima. Near the altar, a blue-haired captain of the guard is kneeling. - I've been waiting for you here for a long time, - he says. - ...don't you recognize me? Because I'm actually... - the guard's hand rests on her head and unzips, revealing the triumphant and arrogant face of Tsukiko Shimizu. The priestess looks away, trying not to look at Tsukiko's naked body, which the suit was worn over. Realizing her fatal mistake, Tsukiko pales, grabs a katana with a trembling hand, slashes her stomach, and falls dead. From the gaping wound in her stomach, with a heavy and cracking sound of tearing tissue, a golden-haired head of an imperial princess gradually emerges: - Yo. "What the hell," the priestess manages to think before waking up to the sounds of sawing and hammering from the street. - It was just a dream, - she explains to the rivets on the ceiling beam, barely opening her eyes. Sitting up in bed and staring into space, she turns her gaze to the nightstand, where a cherry-colored pencil and a Temple notebook lie - this doesn't improve her mood. "More WORK again..." she thinks, and with a heavy sigh, she gets to her feet. A little later, after finishing her morning routine and breakfast, upon returning to her room, she reluctantly changes into a long dress. There is no motivation for this, or for returning to yesterday's desolate district, but the local customs clearly indicate that without a flashy imperial outfit, people will look at you askance. Ready for a trip to the theater, or a pointless banquet - she thinks sourly, looking at herself skeptically in the mirror. => phantasmagoria