[SCP 1194011N]

Everything felt weird about waking up. Ilpholin felt like she'd slept with a warm body- it's hard to get any actual deep sleep without someone warm to cuddle- but none of the signs that anyone else was there existed. It was like... a false positive.

It didn't last long either, as the memory of what happened comes back to her. When it does, all bleary sleepiness disappears and Ilpholin nearly bolts up. Instead, she forces the instinct to roll out of bed weapons ready to stab just about anything nearby, focusing on staying still, staying 'asleep'. Listening, waiting. Figuring out what happened.

She... doesn't seem chained down, but that doesn't mean she's not locked in. Did Adir, Jezebel, and Cessie finish the job then? Ilpholin trusted they could handle it once the ship was revealed. Or rather, gambled that trust for once. So this was probably the Lotus Gardens or the Mithar Keep. One would think.

So why didn't she hurt?

The nymph ought to be aching all over. She's more than trained enough to know she went well above and beyond her physical limits. Her body ought to be screaming at her. And even with healing magic the nanites wouldn't hav- no. No something was horribly wrong. Where were they? Every passing second made it more apparent they weren't there. She can't contact Mister Squiggles. She can't shift her hands. She can't go back to that. She can't go back.

The intensity of her now rapid breathing has clearly given her away at this point, so she forgoes the charade and sits up, opening her eyes. What on earth was she wearing? Some frilly white sundress? A-as cute as it is, she peels it off immediately and starts searching her body, looking with her eyes and her fingers for some fresh scar, some hint of an undesired surgery. But she finds none. Think, think, think.

Why does it feel like she can still think like she used to? If they truly got to all of her augmentations then... Maybe they didn't want to risk going that far. Ilpholin tries stretching and flexing briefly. Those felt right. Was it just the weapons then? But there wasn't any scars. In fact weren't there too few scars in general or was she imagining it? The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. Clearly she wasn't going to ponder out the answers by herself this time.

With a frown, Ilpholin glances at the recently discarded clothes. Well, she could probably still fight in it if she had to, so she'll put it back on in full view of the window as she looks out it and tries to get her bearings.