[ A sentence, a judgement... a strange dream. Maybe she'd just blacked out again, and lost another year. It felt about as likely. But she's got a pretty good view of the surroundings here, and the landscape doesn't bear the same scars that she remembers from her ruined world. ]

[ But she gamely joins in with transporting the flour back to town, although at one point she turns to someone else who seems just as fish-out-of-water as she is: ]

Isn't anyone afraid we'd steal their goods? We could be bandits, for all they know.

[ Lorentia Cave doesn't resemble the caverns of Mt. Zozo, not really. Here, the main passageways have been clearly shorn up and made safe for miners and hikers alike, with signs of people coming-and-going to be found everywhere, whereas Mt. Zozo had been uninhabited (save by bears and giants and one particularly reclusive samurai). ]

[ At the same time, the rumours of dragons has her alert, walking fearlessly past even the most ominous of warning signs (no matter how many skulls and cartoon-swear-symbols are scribbled on them) into the deeper levels of the caves, and puzzling over some skeletal remains down one passageway. ]

[ Murmuring to herself, heedless of anyone in earshot: ] Human? Or...

[ Alternately, if she spots someone else who's gotten themself in a tight spot, whether they've gotten lost or fallen down a mineshaft they can't easily climb back up, Celes's head pops up over a ledge or overhang, waving amiably to whoever's below: ]

Need a hand?

[ If anyone had asked -- alright, no, not anyone. But if a hypothetical person had asked, Celes would have said the whole thing felt like a cruel joke. ]

[ It's fine. Really, it's fine! There's plenty of contestants. Nobody was going to sicken or starve if she wasn't up to snuff. It's fine. ]

[ Anyway. At the beach, there's a young woman standing in the shallows, with her trousers rolled up to her knees and a forbidding expression on her face. To be accurate, you'd find her detaching a too-small fish from the hook and -- with rather too much force than is strictly necessary -- yeeting it back into the waves. One would almost expect the poor fish to skip over the waters like a pebble, but it disappears into the depths with a subdued plop. ]