You sit in a lush garden, bathed in nebulous, hazy rays of moonlight and birdsong, and filled with trees laden with vibrant fruits and flowers. There is a large, clear pool with tranquil waters at the center of the garden, the rippling surface veiled within a thin layer of mist. Behind you lays a beautiful woman, absorbed in her faintly warped, yet attractive reflection in the pond.

Her delicate, pale skin was framed by gorgeous curls of dark hair, her dress made of fig leaves that cover the necessities but offered little else in terms of protection. A golden, shining fruit hung from the nearest tree.

A powdery-woody blend of jasmine, magnolia, and lily wafts through the air, soft and not overpowering; and the breeze tickles the scorpion-like barb of your tail. The only other sound was the quiet, gentle chirping of the fireflies as they bounced around, the occasional whisperings of the gentle breeze flowing through the garden.

As the sound of footfalls on the moist, dewdrop-tipped grass grows closer, you glance behind you and find a fair-skinned, lean man with messy dirty-brown hair and golden eyes---Adam---smiling at you nervously, holding out a hand as if waiting for you to take it.