[color=lightskyblue]𝕎  𝕚  𝕝  𝕝  𝕠  𝕨[/color]

“Yes we are,” Willow responds plainly. She smiles a bit as she stares at the large, open waste tunnel entrance in the distance. “It just doesn’t feel like it yet.”

She had assembled herself in preparation for the sewage-sifting. A heavy, grey, hooded nylon coat, clearly a little too big for her, going down to her knees. An old pair of ski goggles and a black cloth hung around her neck. A pair of black gloves, duct-taped around her coat’s cuffs - she doesn’t want to risk any filth getting on her, whenever she may have to stay corporeal. A pair of black snow pants and rubber boots, similarly duct taped (with a bit of difficulty, given their heftiness).

An unawares bystander might think she’s going on an extended expedition in the Yukon.

Or part of a team of amateur jewel thieves.

Or that it’s just part of the ‘standard Willow weirdness’. Doesn’t matter.

Did she over-prepare a little as someone who can phase through walls and sewer muck? Maybe. But she feels glad that she did - the preparation makes the occasion feel all the more important.

And [i]exciting[/i].