It's a bar.

With exploding stars out the window.

And nobody around.

She gives the stars a suspicious look and wanders over to the bar. Maybe it's weird that she's wearing a nightgown in a bar, but meh, it ate her closet.

Hello. Can I interest you in a beverage? First one's free.

She stares at the napkin.

(She barely notices the pang of disappointment that she cannot bypass this method of communication with osanwe. It is an old hurt and one she has gotten used to.)

"What kind of drink?"

Whatever you would like, or I can recommend something.

"Without deciding, what would you recommend if you were going to recommend a thing?"

Chocolate-infused raspberry juice?

"...Yeah, okay."

Here's one. In a very pretty glass.

She looks at it.

She takes a sip.

She puts it down and buries her face in her arms and cries.

In walks a young woman in boots and jeans and a t-shirt that manage to look subtly unearthly.

Also that's a Valian hairstyle she's wearing.

"Um... Are you okay...?"

She takes one look at the hairstyle, give another helpless sob and covers her face with her hands.

The newcomer sits a few seats down from her at the bar rather than further interrupt the crying jag.

She doesn't speak aloud or receive napkins, but eventually she has a milkshake.

She calms down relatively quickly and sips her beverage again with a look of hopeless longing on her face.

"Hi."

"Hi. Sorry I'm depressing and crazy."

"I'm a therapist, I've seen worse."

"Among other things, I was shown a prophecy of immense suffering, assured that my sister and I were the only ones who could prevent it, we got ourselves killed, and then we reincarnated decades after the prophecy had been fulfilled."

"That's definitely the sort of thing that makes crying completely reasonable, I don't blame you a bit."

"We reincarnated so far in the future that no one knows that the culture we died in ever existed and so far as we know reincarnation is completely unprecedented. No one's going to believe us if we tell them."

Nod, nod.

"And I was married but we don't remember our past lives all at once, it was in pieces, and I was desperately lonely and kissed a boy when I was thirteen and remembered I'm married partway through it and screamed and pushed him away from me and ran away."

"Sorry, uh, you started explaining after I said I was a therapist and I don't know if you want my therapist hat on or if you just want to talk."

"I would fucking love to talk to a therapist whose reaction to my life story is 'let's deal with the shit that happened to you' not 'let's try to make you believe that none of this is real and you've never actually been loved by anyone but your sister ever.'"

"Okay. So, Bar says this is an interplanar bar, I don't know what your world's therapists are like but in my world you have to be a subtle artist to go into the field, and me with my therapist hat on usually involves at least low-level affect and/or thought reading."