Orfeus nodded, distractedly. Solarglass was one thing, but everything here was so organic. Whole trees reared out of buildings like nothing in Tinctora. “Your whole city is a forest,” she said.

Rivasoa’s face lit up in a proper smile. For a second, Orfeus thought they might be able to get along after all. “It is the grove,” she said. “Here, things are done correctly.”

That brought Orfeus back down to solid ground, out of the spinning stained-glass daydream. “What makes you think this is the only way?” she said. “Or the best way? That all others are inferior?”

“Here is where records of the old world are kept, those that are of use.” Rivasoa stood up as the train pulled into the station, lined with evergreens. “We don’t just think our ways are best, but know it.”

Orfeus hadn’t really wanted to understand how annoying arrogance could be. Now, she could put herself in the shoes of nearly everyone she’d ever talked to, but she liked her own boots just fine.

She strode out after Rivasoa and tipped her head back to take in the sights. “Where to now, superior being?” Anywhere was fine, with the leaves and branches overhead and filtered light casting coloured patterns. The street looked dyed, which made her feel more at home.

“You rested on the bus, yes?” Rivasoa said.

“You were there,” Orfeus said, instead of directly lying.

“Yes,” Rivasoa said.

Rivasoa had some succinct little ways of making it known she was annoyed. Orfeus tucked them away into her memory, tucked her cloak behind her and flourished it at Rivasoa. “Lead the way.”

A few people walked along the paths that ran underneath the shadows of the verdant forested buildings. Some travelled faster on personal scooters, just over running pace. Orfeus eyed one as it went past, wondering whether Rivasoa would requisition one: she’d gotten passage on the quartertrain very fast.

Rivasoa just walked, her face grave and her colourful garments shifting in hue with each building they walked by and each panel of glass that caught the light. It was a good place to walk through. It’d be good to try the scooters too. Orfeus had never before been anywhere with streets flat and smooth enough for that kind of travel, but the air was crisp and lights were on in some of the places they passed, conversation rolling out. She felt alive, like she was on the cusp of something. It didn’t feel like anything lurked in the shadows here.

Maybe half an hour’s walk from the train, Rivasoa stopped and nodded. “There,” she said.