[About the gods of this place, Kaede was less certain about.

But she was certain about other things. The solidness of her own hands, the pain of repeated burns, the unfamiliar energy coursing under her skin like it was poorly contained by her form.

And about the other people crammed into white jackets.]

From the useless to the less so. Fairies, to giant dogs with bad manners.

[Kaede allows herself an amused-sounding hmph.]

Or a set of lungs attached to an airhorn that loudly proclaims it's a fairy.