[ The mirror reveals Amanda, dressed in a gray sweater and dark pants, hair pulled back in a ponytail. She has found a long, sturdy fallen branch that she has trimmed the twigs off of, and is using it as a substitute cane — it gives her something to put her weight on, at least, and she's not limping quite so badly as a result.

This entire thing feels more than a little ridiculous, and she would really rather just be back home on Caprica, even if it means dealing with Daniel's calls (she never answers) or with the constant reminders in the news media of the fact that she almost killed herself (no one found her body, when she jumped off the Pantheon Bridge; they're running an investigation, but there's no conclusive evidence). At least there she has some steadiness in the form of Clarice. Here, she has nothing.

There's a moment in which she doesn't address the mirror, though she clearly called it — she's finally figured out how. She slides her fingers through the few strands of hair hanging loose about her face, presses her lips together. Eventually, she speaks up. ]

If I'm going to be stuck here for a while, I guess I, um, I need a place to stay. I don't want to impose on anyone, I just... if anyone knows a place that isn't occupied—

[ She pauses again, looks away briefly, swallows, then looks back again. Smiles faintly. ]

I'd really appreciate it.

( Greetings, fellow Gardeners. Ellie hasn't been around all that much, lately. When she hasn't been around Em, clinging and watching and hovering until either Em had to ask for space, or she had the need to break away and go back down into Hell. Any time that wasn't around Em was spent down there, far away from everyone.

In fact, that's where she is right now, sitting on a rock with her feet dangling in the water. )

So, I know that-- one of the things that's really confusing here is all the magic. The magic, and everything it does, especially if you're from somewhere that doesn't have much of it. ( A quiet amendment: ) Any of it. That's the way it was for me, anyway. Magic and advanced science and all that stuff.

( She thinks of things Sephiroth said, Epsilon being an android, or whatever she'd called it. What she saw Vanille do. That monster-- thing, whatever she'd called it -- Fang swooped in on. That looked like a robot, she thought, but that thing Vanille had been on had just appeared out of nowhere – like it was magic.

These are some of the things he's been chewing over the last two weeks, and she sniffs a bit, hands in loose fists as she rubs her eyes with the inside of her wrists. )

I was wondering if any of it's really all that different. We call all those big marvels 'science,' back home, or miracles, I guess, if you're religious and stuff. But, maybe if people from other worlds saw the same things, they'd call it 'magic'. And-- maybe that means that miracles and all that aren't so crazy to believe, you know? I mean, there could really be some big, guiding force out there, that's what magic and science is, or-- I dunno. Maybe they're all just the same thing. Maybe that's what life is, just all those things and we can't really say what it is. People really like putting labels on stuff, but maybe we're just trying to break apart things that all come down to being the same thing, in the end.

Maybe we're calling the Vine and this place and-- all the things that happen here magic, and maybe it is. Maybe it's still science and miracles at the same time, too. Or some other things I haven't heard the names of. ( She sighs, resting her chin on her knees. ) I don't know. I guess, I was just wondering what... some of you believe.

[Mikuru's been staying out of everyone's way and trying not to be a bother, mortally embarrassed about her meltdown her first day here.

Since today's weather is lovely, she's opened all the windows and is humming softly as she brews tea; more than she needs for herself, and there are other teacups in the cupboard, but she's too shy to ask anyone to join her, so for the moment she's by herself...]

[The sun has set. The "stars", or whatever they are, are twinkling peacefully. The birds have all gone to bed. Suddenly, a sharp report shatters the quiet of the Gardens, followed by an explosion of light and color brightening the sky.

Another burst follows, then another, and anyone familiar with the sight will catch on to what's happening at once: somebody's shooting off fireworks. A lot of fireworks, it looks like, as they continue to shoot up into the sky.

The Vine doesn't leave the author of these explosions a mystery. After a few minutes of showing the fireworks themselves, lighting up the night, it changes its focus and reveals the person responsible for this display, standing in an open field: a lean, redheaded woman contentedly lighting fuses, her form illuminated by a portable electric lantern she brought along.

Santana'd said this was a holiday for blowing things up, and that is Reno's kind of holiday. Reno knows about fireworks, so it wasn't hard for her to wish them up, along with the racks and launchers and all that other stuff. As a kid, she used to steal them and set them off in places where people really, really did not want anyone setting off fireworks. Loud and flashy, explosive devices are her thing. It's not the fanciest fireworks show, and Reno sets them off with more enthusiasm than artistry--not caring about the intervals they go off at or which one follows which--but she gets the job done, quick and deft. She's not worried about starting a fire, because she knows from experience that the bears'll come put it out. No big deal.

When she finally notices the Vine is filming, she grins at it.]

I heard it was a holiday, so-- [She remembers very well what the holiday was called, but she takes pleasure in pretending she doesn't know things. It matches up with Tseng's routine of pretending he knows everything, and she carries it out even in his absence.]

Happy fucking whatever.