☀️ Arselia and Akonia

Last night, the priestess dreamed that she was climbing a snow-covered mountain, trying to escape the pursuit of Reimy's 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. Waiting for 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, goes deep into the mountain for many kilometers. After an eternity, at the end of it, she finds a modest memorial altar with smoldering incense and a framed photograph of Reisen Reimy. Near the altar, a blue-haired captain of the guard is sitting on his knees.
- 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 the top of his 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, over which the suit was worn. Realizing her fatal mistake, Tsukiko turns pale, grabs a katana with a trembling hand, slits 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 the 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.

- Nonsense, 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 bedside table, where a cherry-colored pencil and a Temple notebook lie - this doesn't improve her mood.
"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 customs there clearly showed 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