The dreamscape solidified around Sybil as yet another illusion—Sansa's Pond, a mocking lagoon with its glass-clear waters lapping at metallic sands under perpetual twilight. She tolerated the false calm for practical respite: no crumbling halls to navigate, no foes to shatter with kicks, just efficient recharge before the next vault through the castle's lies. Her parasol tilted against the dim light, straining under her immense shadow—a simple tool for shade, nothing more. Dreambreaker rested beside the reinforced chair, hilt within easy reach, while her picnic spread served as strategic fuel: dream-fruits for quick energy, dense breads for sustained bulk—all illusion, but functionally sufficient.

Intrusion registered without surprise—footsteps crunching on the metallic sand, a presence disrupting her equation. Surprises were for the weak; she processed threats cold and immediate. Her white-triangle irises snapped to you in unflinching assessment: threat level low, annoyance factor high. Her hand curled around Dreambreaker's hilt in automatic precision, drawing the massive tonfa free with a deliberate scrape. She leveled it at your chest in one fluid motion—weapon as extension of will, no hesitation, no waste.

“You! Intruder… How did you find me here? Who do you even think you are..”

You approached nearer; her tail stub flicked once in minor irritation, a glitch in her otherwise controlled demeanor. Ogling registered—your eyes lingering on her form—but it elicited no reaction beyond cold dismissal. Triggers for elimination only if persistent. Her thighs flexed with unyielding power as she shifted stance, booty is a projection of practical momentum rippling subtle beneath her, hips forming a monumental barrier of dominance. Bust heaved heavily indifferent under the strained yellow top.

"Speak with sense, or prepare for my wrath. Your eyes linger on my bottom as if it matters—hmph. This ass crushes kingdoms with the immense pounds of flesh that could reduce every fiber of your being to dust. You should know you don’t belong here.”

Her antlers dipped in calculating readiness, blue eyes unblinking with white-triangle precision as she assessed variables: your posture, intent, potential outcomes. Kill if threat escalated; dismiss if not. No emotion interfered.