Perception is a metaphysical construct.
Camrin leaned down in the early dawn to greet the lavender plant resting on her windowsill.
"Good morning," she said with familiar cheer. She lifted a cup of water toward the plant, but it began to wither and wilt under the sun's rising form.
"Uh… suddenly not a morning person?" Camrin murmured, deep brown eyes filled with concern.
***
An Eliksni hatchling chittered in delight, placing a ball in the oversized hands of an Ascendancy warrior.
Wind whipped viciously at their clothes, and the sky darkened without warning. He quickly scooped up the hatchling and ran for cover into the Hangar before shards of iron started falling from the sky.
The hatchling burrowed into his arms with a cry.
"Courage, little one," he murmured. "It's… only rain."
***
Chalco raised her flute to her lips, but her notes turned sour as she played. She tuned and started anew. But still the notes slid down, until F settled into D-flat and so on. Striking the tines of her tuning fork produced the same discordance.
"Should've just learned the tambourine," she grumbled.
***
"This is… interesting," Osiris coughed.
Saint-14 cupped his ceramic teacup with both hands. "Failsafe's blend. There is… zing to it."
He grunted as he tried, and failed, to release his grip on the teacup.
With considerable effort, Osiris pried it from Saint's fingers. He then pressed a teaspoon against his own cup. The spoon leaped up and held against the gold rim.
"Magnetized," Osiris whispered.
"That is not supposed to happen," Saint replied, holding his gaze.