Sellas woke up in her self-made bed. The cobbled-together mess of broken bar furnishings shifted as she turned her head, and she flopped to the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, Sellas groaned.

She felt terrible.

The floor's rough-worn planks dug into her face, and her left arm was half-asleep from where she'd slept on it. Her temple continued to pound from the previous day's excursion — with the night's rest doing little to relieve the ache — and her mouth felt chalky and dry.

Leveraging herself upward, Sellas made to stand, only to slam the back of her head against an open cabinet door. She dropped. Her chin planted itself firmly back into the ground, and the empty room echoed with the sounds of cursing as she curled up into a ball.

Finally, though, she did make her way to her feet. Weaving carefully beneath the cabinetry, Sellas snapped its door closed with a disgruntled flick.

It was a particularly unpleasant start to a new day.

Hunching over herself as a hand continued to rub at the back of her head, Sellas kicked her bed back under the counter. With that completed, she moved to change out from her nightwear.

She'd done little the day before, exhausted from her untimely demise and the outburst that had followed. Having slept now, though, she felt ready for the new morning. The emotions that had plagued her didn't seem quite so sharp.

So yes, Sellas was doing better, if only by a little bit. She was still pissed, of course. Still angry, scared, upset, and not a little bit confused upon reflection. But it was something she could acknowledge and think about, rather than be controlled by.

Off with the nightwear and on with the day-clothes— Sellas changed into what she'd worn the day before. Not in that they were copies, but that there was but a single pair. The bar had provided the two individual sets of clothing, and she'd worn the other one to bed.

As she pulled the tunic over her head, Sellas walked to the middle of the room. There, she stopped to kneel in front of one of the larger gouges in the floor. It was relatively deep— a finger's width down into the boards. Still, it seemed smaller than it had the day before, the edges stretching inward to close the gap.

Sellas straightened and gave a pleased sigh; that was good. She hadn't been sure the bar could fix floorboards, given her experience with the char-marks behind the counter. Why the knights had done so much damage to the place, she still didn't know.

"So... what's the plan for today?"

It was a rhetorical question, but her stomach growled in response. Wincing, she rubbed at it in chagrin.

Aches and pains aside, there were a couple of priorities. The first would be breakfast.

Quick-stepping her way back to the counter, Sellas slid over its top, forgoing the six-second trip around its side. From there, she stretched herself upward and pulled open a different cabinet that hung above. Reaching in, her hand wrapped around a loaf of bread, which hadn't been there the day before.

She set it onto a cutting board and reclosed the door. One knife and two sawed-off cuts later, the slices were transferred to a plate, and the rest of the loaf set face-down against the wooden surface. It'd crumbled slightly with the blade but was mostly intact.

Sellas shrugged. Next, she reached for one of the fruits and—

Her hand slapped against the empty interior of a wooden bowl. Looking up, Sellas blinked at it, then drew her arm back towards her side. A frown creased her face as she peered around at the countertop.

"Where'd I put those bulbs?"

Setting down the knife, Sellas walked around to the nearest unbroken tables by the door. Their tops were clear, as were the seats of the chairs beneath them. She spun and scratched at her neck while her head cocked in confusion.

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She'd brought two of the fruits inside, but what had she done with them after that?

Sellas turned, mentally retracing her steps. She'd come inside and sat against the wall to start, but the floor around there was empty. After that, though, she'd needed to reset the fireplace and—

Oh.

Grinning in self-deprecation, Sellas knocked a fist against her head, then winced as the action pounded at her skull. Both fruits were placed above the fireplace's mantle— she'd put them there while feeding the flames' runes the day before.

Snagging both with one hand, Sellas took a step back, then paused. She hesitated and eyed the flames, then crouched down, sliding to a knee. While they were still relatively high, it paid to be sure; restarting the fire was always harder than feeding it.

Sellas's free-arm extended, and she placed her hand against the fireplace's stones. Closing her eyes, she leaned into them and pushed.

A chill traveled up from the center of her chest to her shoulder. It moved down the length of her arm, exiting as a flash of blue at her palm. The fire sputtered, then flared a bit higher as Sellas drew away. Where her hand had rested, a rune continued to glow.

Minor upkeep completed, she made her way back to the counter.

Sliced bread and fruits were the meal of the day. They were the meal of every day, so far— the least she could say was that it tasted fine.

Knife back in hand, Sellas began working around the bulb's thicker skin. When she'd peeled it all away, the resulting flesh was divided into wedges and rolled into the bread on her plate.

She munched on it in silence, letting the warmth of the room soak in as the food dripped onto the tableware.

When she'd finished, she licked her fingers clean, then dusted her hands against her sides. Her headache had largely faded as she ate. Standing, Sellas peered around the room and immediately found her second task.

The knights' damage had hardly been limited to the floor. Half the tables around the bar were smashed to splinters, and many chairs had fared the same. Legs were missing, chunks were taken from their sides, and most were beyond reasonable repair.

Sellas grumbled, then pressed her hands against her back, leaning into a stretch. This would be some work.

The smaller scraps were saved; quarter lengths of broken table-legs and strips of cushioning from the chairs were each cut away and set to the side. For the rest, however, the door was opened, and Sellas began lugging it all out to the forest. Or rather— she brought the pieces to the opening and chucked them through.

A quarter of the way through, she remembered to activate her Skills.

[Assisted Cleaning] and [Minor Endurance], though the second was technically passive— always working behind the scenes. The cleanup increased in speed from there, with the minor delays and issues resolved more quickly and with lighter intervention.

She slumped as she caught sight of the splintered lower-half of a figurine, then tossed it aside with the rest.

Table by table, chair by chair, Sellas worked through the mess. The pieces piled higher outside the door, and twice she was forced to step out to shift them further away.

When everything was done, however, Sellas shook the soreness from her arms and plopped backward into one of the remaining chairs. The bar seemed... empty without the rest of the furniture. There was a large gap around the entryway, where most of the damage had been focused, and a near palpable sense of wrong.

Still, it was hardly the end of the world. She'd gotten some miscellaneous parts from the deconstruction, and now that the furnishings weren't just laying around, replacements would be able to appear in their place. It was one of the few positive aspects of living in what amounted to a magical prison.

Scrubbing a thumb at the corner of her eye, Sellas gave a frustrated sigh. Conveniences of cleanup aside, she needed some real food. And some better distractions.

And, well, a lot of things, really. But those would be a pleasant start.

Maybe she could catch some game— figure out how to set a snare in woods and get a bit of meat into her diet. Though, to be honest, she hadn't seen much more than the occasional small bird or squirrel. The forest seemed pretty dead overall.

Standing, Sellas made her way behind the bar. She snagged a mug as she passed, leaning over a basin in the corner and slapping a palm across the block of stone that made up its spout. The stone glowed as water streamed out from its opening, filling the container.

When it was full, she drew away. Her fingers flexed stiffly with the action, and she shook her hand. Powering the bar's runes remained an unpleasant task; she'd need to slow her usage for a bit.

That was fine, though; the fire would last for a while, and this would be enough water for now.

Setting the cup and some food on an open table, Sellas brought over one of the bar's knives and a cast-off table leg. Once there, she looked around the room again and sighed.

A few hours work to clean up their mess, and it was almost like nothing had happened at all. Another day after this and a person wouldn't even be able to tell. If they ignored the burn-marks behind the bar at least.

It was disheartening, in a way: all that had happened, and nothing changed. There'd be nothing but some poor memories to show for it.

This was her life. Her average day.

Sellas dropped into a chair. Knife in hand and table-leg before her, she leaned forwards and began to whittle away her time.