There I am. Laying my back on top of a meadow of swaying grass that carries an echoing breeze. The birds sing as the sun's rays don't overstay their welcome lifting up towards the sky. I've been here many times. My mind's escaping wonderland of a dream. I never complain about doing the same thing. Laying my back flat on the grass while staring into the endless white clouds along a rich blue sky. What gets better than that? 

That's an easy answer. Having her there too. Lying right next to me with her charcoal-like eyes always staring back completely lazed into my own. She would have the most glamorous dress. A purple and brown long one to the best my mind can picture, while her hair, twisted and curled is in perfect condition designed and maintained by the Gods themselves. Hearing her voice, mention my name as if I didn't disappoint her, is all I need for a smile to appear while I sleep.

However, every time she asks me to stay, I must sigh and refuse. Simply because I'm not dead, and every time, knowing I didn't die the man she gave her life towards. So, like many times before, my mind brings me back.

With my being floating within my headspace and not resting in a meadow, I can hear voices murmuring to one another. I dare not open my eyes an inch. I just lay there motionless and try to dissect the voices. They're female, that much I can tell, and there are three of them. Somehow that makes me even more nervous. My ears, like a copy machine, put their voices into my brain and come up with some results.

"Say, Lavender, I didn't know we had a guest sleeping on our couch." That voice is high-pitched, filled with life. At least after hearing her voice first, I know I'm not in one of Devastator's interrogation chairs.

"We didn't." A voice says right after who I presume belongs to this Lavender. Unlike the other one, I can sense the aggression and raucous lying deep from where I lie.

"Looks like he's knocked out cold ha-ha." This voice stands out among the last two. It speaks with a modulated tone adding a tee bit of quirkiness into the mix. Reminds me of a certain signet jokester I know.

"Well, he's pretty cute for a guest on our couch." That high pitcher has me flattered, especially since it sounds like she wouldn't hurt a fly. A nice change of things if you ask me.

"Then I guess you can say he is all snuggled up. Ha-ha get it?" That jokester has me cringing and it doesn't help that I am imagining Peter's stupid grin after she says it. At that point, my face struggles to keep itself stationary but I manage.

"Shhh, you two. He's already awake."

That Lavender is a clever one. She sends those breaths right back through my lungs. I'm sure even with that jokester's cringe of a joke, my body was still and my facial features were at the minimum. It's as if she could tell I'm conscious by my breaths alone. I have a feeling she will be the most interesting of the bunch.

With no other options, I sit up slowly with my eyes doing the same and once they open, I finally see my much-anticipated gossipers. They are females as I expected. Besides that, all three look differently from one another to the point I easily match their voices. 

However, what remains the same is how all our eyes stare bewildered at one another. Intrigued yet confused, a state that determines everything depending on what move I make next. Considering all my options once more, I play towards a safer route.

"Hel..lo," I say in a sotto voice that barely got off my tongue. Thankfully they don't try to attack or take my stuff like many others in my time would. They all keep shooting glimpses at one another. One of them thrusts themselves towards my body with one hand out towards my chest.

"Hi, nice to meet you, stranger." Being this close to her, the pitch in her voice is highly recognizable, still, it's pleasant to hear. "My name is Loran and over there are my two sisters Launa and Lavender."

Her gesture reminded me of an offer I got from Lincoln so many times, in a way it's hard to refuse to shake her hand which feels softer than a pillow.

She's the oldest compared to the other two, that I can tell. Her hair is pale blonde, side-swept into bangs while her green aqua dress has not even a speck of dust upon it. What stands out the most to my eyes are the pearl earrings that shake almost as much as she does. 

To my credit, she probably knows that. It's rare to see or feel someone like her still alive, full of sunshine as she is. The Great Terror would have woken her up big time.

However, the one I'm most curious about seeing for myself is Lavender. She doesn't disappoint. She stares down at me like a hissing reptile as Loran continues to make small talk. She has the build of an athlete, yet she has the gullet to pose as a fighter. 

Her thick brown hair wraps itself into a ponytail by a rubber band, and to my surprise, half of that tail is tipped in the color of lavender, as her name would suggest. As Loran asks for my name, Lavender's eyes become their loudest yet. Still, I choose to play nice for now.

"Greetings Loran, Launa, and Lavender. It's nice to meet your acquaintance." Saying her name last makes her eyes hiss. A reaction I was hoping for.

I test her further to see if she was what I expected. "My name is Joseph Arrowson, and I was wondering if you all would be so kind as to tell me where I am?"

It's a genuine question. The last time I saw myself was blacking out inside Lisa's machine. Yet that Lavender once again doesn't disappoint. Her body slivers my way like a cobra lunging at its prey. 

Frankly, I can only see her wearing a cobra's skin. Instead of armor, she wears a brown mud jersey, and instead of scars, she has bruises, a lot of them. I can't tell if Heavy had more scabs and bruises than she does.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing bud." She presses her finger against my fleshy shoulder. Too bad they weren't fangs, maybe then I would've flinched. "Or maybe I'll have to boot you out myself."

I can't help but smirk once I notice she has freckles arranged underneath her eyes. It made her look somewhat adorable. I don't make that hidden either as her eyes become the tails of a rattlesnake.

"What's so funny?" She asks

"I'm sorry, I'm just a bit confused." I lean my head into the snake's den making sure the other two couldn't hear, especially since I want to appear nice to them. Then I simply whisper, "That you think  you could even try."

Our eyes begin putting on the gloves. She wants competition, and I'm happy to oblige. She might be the same age as Lincoln at best, but I doubt she has skills even comparable to his. Though before the bells can ring, Launa the one who's been idly quiet so far puts her hands between the two of us, cracking one of her jokes as she does. At least I and Lavender can agree on a harmonious sigh.

Launa unlike her other siblings isn't over the top in fashion or abusiveness. She just has her hair wrapped up into a high ponytail, supported by a yellow scrunchie, and to match it all a nice yellow sleeve. However, what stands out to me more than even Loran's earrings is pinned to her yellow shirt and skirt. 

A circular flower of brown and red petals. The same flower that matches Peter's signet. Even its color makes her clothes pop out as the symbol did upon signet. Makes me think that they have similar inspirations.

Lackluster her joke was, it does ease some necessary tension. She then asks me the same thing Lavender did moments ago. Her voice sounds a bit off when she utters any Ss probably because of the braces that are wired to her lower and upper teeth.

"To be honest, I don't know how I got here. You might not believe me but this must be some type of misunderstanding. Because I was going to ask you all the same thing."

Quite a mouthful of a response, though in the end, they seem to believe me. Even Lavender, whose eyes haven't stopped hissing at me since I woke, seems to accept my story for now. I knew we all were missing a piece of the puzzle, something yet to reveal itself. 

We all got our answer from what I can only describe as sounds of yelling banshees roaring from behind me. Not bots, thankfully, because I can hear that their vocals were human. For a moment my mind freezes on one of their voices.

A British tone. All too familiar. A voice that has inspired hundreds against his fellow founder who turned their valley into even more of a wasteland. A voice, I fought alongside for the longest time. A voice of a mentor. A voice of a friend. 

Before my eyebrows have a chance to jump from my head at this discovery, I'm already drenched in water from head to toe. Luckily, I was standing up by the point when the air became silent with only the droplets leaving my jacket and pants crying when they hit the floor.

I turn to all the other girls, but none of them seem to know if they should laugh or dismiss it. The boys with now empty water buckets stare at me like I should have melted leaving behind my black-skinned boots. Admittedly it wouldn't make things any more awkward.

Loran runs at speeds that I would only see from soldiers running for dear life, for a towel she gets from another room. The towel is bigger than her hand but the same size as mine. At least she tried. She then begins scolding the two boys as if she were their mother. 

The other two stay silent, shuffling around presumably with their school bags on the floor avoiding water puddles in the process. A wise decision, though Lavender had to slide in as Loran viciously scolds them by saying

"You should have used hot water." She then turns to me with a smile that's declaring war. 

I give her a shark stare and use the towel to dry off some of the areas that the natural heat didn't. At this point, I got a good look at the two. No doubt, even with his no-plus introduction, it's definitely him.

Lincoln, the boy with the polished white hair, though his hair seems to be shinier than ever. He's a clone even down to his chipped front teeth. Now my brain wants to leave my skull. There are already questions I had that Lisa didn't tell me and now, I've come up with many more. But the main one has been answered. 

So, that is why Lisa and my Lincoln wanted to come here. Because of him, or most likely, because of them.

"I am so sorry, good sir," Lincoln says, snapping me back into reality. For some reason, his eyes dare not look into mine. "I and my friend shouldn't have been so hasty to pelt water upon you like that. Can you please forgive us?"