This place, this bed, everything felt fuzzy, but aside from that, the soft mattress and endlessly available blankets helped make it feel like she had gotten rest, something that she had the vague idea had been a scarcity. Agatha opened her eyes slowly, looking forward at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and the accompanying writing desk that stood against the wall. Everything here looked as if it belonged, as if it were tailored and made to fit perfectly within the space available.

Sitting up, that heaviness settled back in even as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. There was always that moment, right when she woke up, that an odd, moving tangle of something floated right at the edge of that fuzziness between her and the forgotten dreams. Even if it didn't sit with her, settling on the forefront of her mind, it still left an odd feeling.

The floor was cold, making her grumble slightly about having forgotten to leave the gifted slippers by this side of the bed to avoid the cold first thing in the morning. It was only a momentary problem as she let her comfort fall back to the bed, and she moved to settle down in front of the small vanity that was on one of the other walls. The face staring back at her, one with skull-like pupils and pale grey skin, stirred things she didn't quite feel like approaching. It always left an ember burning, something that left her clenching her hands so hard on the wood that it often would groan and crack under her grasp. So instead she focused downwards to the brush and pins on the desk, one of which had been a combined gift from the three inhabitants of this large manor.

Each pass of the brush helped tame the unruly mess that her hair had become in the night, and after a while, when she was sure it was smoothed out enough between brushing and some oils, she started pinning it up into a bun before adding that last hairpin.

That face in the mirror changed, and she found herself touching her cheek and admiring the difference. It was wholly human, something that eased whatever still gnawed at her. There were still flashes, bits of memory that bit into her as she looked over certain places. It had happened first in the large library here, when the sound of a closing door filled her both with fear and a deep sinking dread. It felt suffocating, and in the future, she would keep a chair there to prop the heavy door open to ease that rolling wave of panic.

Today, she needed to read over a few more books, things that Desiree and Aloysius had gathered for her to help her settle in a bit more. The blonde, Liam, she could hear in the office from time to time as she wandered. So there was always someone here, and he often made her lunch before the other two would return.

The manor was large, filled with endless rooms and antiquities that all fit and blended seamlessly with the air of the home. It was warm, even if the wood floors did leave a chill at times. There was always something going on, music or tinkering from what she could tell. It was better than silence, something she wasn't sure she liked at this point in time.

Trailing her fingers down the swirling pattern of the wooden railing that lined the grand staircase down to the main floor, she knew this was a home, not just a large hulking space that sat empty and cold. It felt nice; the three here were all pleasant in their own ways, and even though she was still piecing things together, she could tell that there weren't any alternative motives when it came to Liam.

Desiree seemed nice as well, though the woman who was also sometimes a cat tended to keep very busy. As did Aloysius, something she was more than curious about. But there would be time for those questions, for now she was settled with the little homework she had at the kitchen table. A book about this city and maps of the areas within and around it lay open next to a notebook in which she scrawled things. Her handwriting was clean and small, the swirling loops of her script blending without hesitation now. Another book lay on the table, one that did not have the same language on it that the rest did, one that was hers but blank. No matter what page she flipped to, the yellowed pages, which seemed so heavy, were annoyingly empty. It had not been that way, according to Desiree, as she had seen it before things had shifted.

With a sigh, she set it back down and pored over her notes, committing what she could to memory and hoping that it would stick more solidly. Buildings and shops, trails and parks, everything built over time and changing as the needs of the city changed or communities grew and expanded. It was a curious thing to see, the interesting ways that things had passed over time. Only a few buildings had lasted more than a hundred years, something that was apparently a small amount of time in comparison to other countries. This was a place of change and advancement, always building upon itself and improving, something that was evident by the constant presence of construction sites or public green spaces, apparently.

Scribbling a small map on the next page of her notebook, she knew that this manor was far from the city center, somewhere quieter with more privacy. Something that was apparently due to the taller man, Aloysius. Something about them made it difficult for her to warm up the same way as she had with Liam. They never seemed to truly present how they thought when talking, as if everything was an act almost. It bothered her, but her time around him was short compared to the others.

It was tiring, though, something she didn't quite like when it came to sharing a space with someone, but it wasn't her place to say anything yet either. This was their manor, and she was his responsibility, so there would be some time needed for adjustments. Still, she would watch him between moments when he was home with Liam and moments when he was going out on patrol; there was a shift there even if it wasn't easily perceived.

Looking up from her book, she thought about this situation. Once she had recovered enough, she was due to start training for her job with Aloysius and Desiree. But the thing that bothered her was what they meant by recovered; did it mean that her memories wouldn't be floating without context? She doubted that, but physically, she felt mostly alright. Sleep came easily, her appetite was normal, and she was able to move around the manor and the surrounding gardens just fine. The only thing that had been bothering her was those moments when feelings without memory came through, and she would struggle to ground herself. It was easier with this new face, different enough but still her, so that she could apparently go out in public without being bothered much.

Though leaving the manor was open, as long as she had someone accompanying her to help her not get lost, she wasn't sure how she felt about leaving just yet. It was quiet here, but not in the same way that would have sent her heart rate up in panic. It felt like she had needed a break from something, from that ember that still bristled and flared up in her chest at times, but she pushed it down for now. That would be another matter to look into, something that she felt should be kept close to her chest, much as Aloysius held many things back and obscured.

Closing the book and the map, she let her mind wander only slightly, thinking of that darkness that seemed to try squirming into her thoughts. It didn't feel like it was a thing, not a creature exactly, but she couldn't resolve what it might be from all the missing gaps. There were moments suspended in isolation with no certainty, which were connected and which preceded the next.

It was frustrating, but from what she could grasp, this was a well-deserved peace. And if she could take advantage of the time to observe and read, she would do so to the fullest. It was with a clearer head than she felt some of the memories led her to believe she had before it all, whether or not that was a good thing was still to be determined. Something was grounding here, which was a relief, because it did not give her that same feeling of being imprisoned that seemed to linger through almost every flicker of memory she could access.

Standing up, she wandered the manor as she did during the time when nobody would be there to entertain her questions; it was something she had done hesitantly at first, unsure of how much freedom she had to wander. There were only a few rooms that were locked and inaccessible; some were bedrooms, which she could understand being locked for privacy, and offices, which were locked for similar reasons. Only one room was locked that didn't fall under either of those categories. Until recently, there had been a level of dust on the knob to show it was left alone, but everyone, not just herself.

Today, she wandered nearer to it, noticing the line of dust had been broken but otherwise still left unclean. It was curious, perhaps something else, but she had a feeling it wasn't something to be asked about yet. There had been a few paintings, ones that appeared to be old family portraits of Aloysius's family. Something seemed different in them, not something she could place, but it still left her interested and curious about things.

Every room had a bookshelf, some of which were filled not with books but sheet music, something that was present throughout much of this manor. It was also something she had no real memory of, something she wasn't sure if it was because the memories were missing or if such a thing was wholly a human experience.

With her blank and aged journal in hand, she wandered back up to her room and looked over it again. It was blank still, but something felt different as she sat at the writing desk and took the pen from the inkwell. The ink had been made from some of those odd scales she had, something she had a deep sense of displeasure over, but she did appreciate the way the ink seemed to glitter and shimmer as she wrote.

Today was quiet, much as it usually is, and I find myself wandering and learning only the smallest information about the inhabitants here. By far, Liam is the most open, followed by Desiree and then Aloysius. My preference for them follows that order as well. What Desiree calls my henshin pen lies in a drawer I keep locked. I'm unsure if I want to approach that just yet. Just looking at it stirs something I don't quite like or understand in me when I do. Perhaps that's what they mean by recover. It's not something I can be sure of, but so far things seem better. I do wonder, though, was music something missing from where I came from?

Something was different this time as she set the pen back into the ink. The words seemed to move, instead of remaining in the plain English she had written them in, they changed into something that soothed her in a way she hadn't realized it would. They were encrypted, then they slowly faded, leaving the page blank for a moment before a similarly encoded message started to darken on the page.

Music was not part of the curriculum; additional information regarding it can be inferred from outsider texts. References inaccessible.

Blinking slowly, she touched the page as she focused and untangled the code in her mind. While nothing changed on the page, she felt she understood the words and felt herself laugh softly. So it was blank for a reason, and perhaps she'd written in it before. If it had infinite space because it faded afterwards, she could take her notes in here to perhaps expand what it stored. That was a pleasant surprise at least, and something that even as she tried to focus on her memories, there weren't any regarding this book in that way.

It was odd but she shook it off and closed the book before tucking it into another drawer and locking it away as well. For now, she would take a book from her shelf and read about history instead of modern locations. Then perhaps later she would talk with Liam about what else she might do in this home.

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