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OCT 12, 2149 DAY THIRTY ON THE GROUND
HOME II ━━━ DOTAN
" safe and sound like the rhythm of snow. "
THE FIRST THING DAKOTA THOMPSON DID WAS SMILE. A faint, entirely subconscious twitch of her lips as mellow piano music tickled at her ears. The noise was so clear and mellifluous, not plagued by crackling static or interrupted by outside ruckus. It was pure and peaceful.
The serene chords, though having been the cause of her unwitting smile, were the same exact reason it shattered from her face the second her brain was roused enough to consider the alarm the idyllic moment prompted. Where was the ruckus?
Her immediately perplexed eyes shot open, only for her to wince at the blinding light and close them again. Spots danced on the inside of her eyelids from the mere volume of how bright her surroundings had been; vision momentarily impaired by the brilliance so badly it had seemed that everything was white. Only until she slowly peeked her eyes open again did she realize; everything was white.
She blinked several times in utter confusion, as if expecting to wash away the muddling scene and be met with the familiar woods once again; as if this was some sort of false reality. But the white room didn't disappear or fade away, her irises merely continued to adjust to the light as she steadily sat up in the bed she was lying in.
The next thing she noticed was how void of pain every ounce of her being was and how well rested she felt. She looked down at her arm, swelling gone and normal color returned; the girl wiggling her fingers with no throbbing sensations and full mobility once again. There were two separate IVs in her arm, her gaze following the thin tubes up to the big, clear pouches administering the different meds and fluids. Whatever was inside of them, it had sure preformed some kind of healing on her; the girl so full of strength and vigor now.
However, she still frowned at the absence of all of her friendship bracelets and at the unfamiliar white tank top and shorts she was clothed in; it looked odd to see her arms stripped bare of her beloved jewelry.
Baffled, she scanned every inch of her surroundings from where she sat. A white leather couch with a matching loveseat, a small silver trashcan, a spotless sink and toilet, a tray table laid out next to her, a few different ivory dressers, and— she paused, her eyes widening drastically. A large panting in a fancy, golden frame hung on the wall; the only pop of color amidst the endless hues of snow. It was an illustration she recognized instantly from pictures in history books on the Ark, clearly done by the one and only Vincent Van Gogh; a legendary artist. One of the most famous of all time.
