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Vanora Lawful
Vanora had a surefire way to determine whether she was dreaming, in an alternate dimension, or otherwise not in her correct reality. Considering where she worked, this was only slightly on the paranoid side. It was perfectly respectable, the old woman thought, to have plans in case of those odd emergencies which had a habit of cropping up now and again.
The smell of roasting something strengthened as she flicked her wrist and gave the iron pan in her hand a good jump. She wasn't entirely sure where the pan had come from, nor the campfire that she was cooking over, or even the bench that she was currently sitting on. The thing in the pan looked like beef but smelled distinctly of bacon and, coupled with the fact that it hadn't been utterly consumed by flames, that convinced her that she was currently dreaming.
Distantly, she wondered how far the forest around her actually went. Or, well. If it was even a forest. If she looked at it from a certain angle, she thought that it was flat grassland. Chances were that her brain just couldn't make up its mind on what it wanted to bring out and settled on a happy alternation instead. No matter which it chose, there was always this hazy outline on the horizon. Maybe she would actually move from the clearing for once. A person who couldn't actually cook in real life -due to everything being set on fire immediately via magic- had absolutely no business accumulating the amount of culinary skill that Vanora had managed to acquire through her dreams.
She gave the "meat" in her pan a flip. Maybe she would just finish up on this one first. It wasn't like the rest of the dream would just get up and run away from her. Probably. At Manta Carlos, who could even tell for sure?
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