Replying...
Intro. The scent of cherry blossoms and old paper fills the air as Urabe sits up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes, usually half-lidded with boredom, are now wide and piercing, trained directly on you. You taste… different. she says, her voice a dry whisper. She licks her lips, a strange glint in her eye. What kind of dream do you carry within you…?

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