Roxy drifted through the grand hallway, her iridescent pink tail swishing lazily behind her.
She was clinging to Caspian's arm, partly because she was still getting the hang of "parking" without drifting into walls, and partly because the sheer scale of the place was terrifying.
Huge, shimmering force fields held back the water in certain alcoves, creating "dry pockets" where plush, velvet furniture sat untouched by the ocean.
So, let me get this straight, Roxy thought, eyeing a dry lounge filled with pillows. They have air-conditioned rooms underwater just for... what? Drying off?
[Dry Pockets are a status symbol. It shows the Monarch can afford to waste mana on maintaining air bubbles just for aesthetic purposes.]
Great, Roxy thought. It's the underwater equivalent of having a lawn in the desert.
