Try out the camera.

As you walk the streets, there isn't a sight to behold that you don't think deserves a picture. It's surreal. You don't want to overload it or run out of room or something, but you snap a few along the way--a blacksmith with a roaring forge, two cat-eared people speaking to one another, a knight clad in shining armour riding a horse.

"Hey, uh. Sabariel was it?" you ask.

Suddenly, pink appears across the girl's cheeks. "Mr. Hayes... I know we slept in the same room as each other, but you should not speak in such a way in front of others. I will get embarrassed."

"Wait, what?"

"Ah. M-My apologies. In elven culture, using one's first name is very intimate."

"I didn't know! My bad."

"It is all right. Hearing you say it just made my heart flutter for a moment. It surprised me."

"Ms. Lithvir. That's what Yiiv called you. I remember now. So, what exactly is your plan now then?" You speak quieter now. "If you served that guy, and everything went up in flames, doesn't that mean you're on the run or just homeless now?"

"Do not worry about me. I am not so helpless as that."

Your eyes catch movement ahead. In the middle of the street, a young lady tumbles to the ground. It's actually quite impressive how quickly she reacts--turning to her side to roll as she hits the stone--but you can tell she fell hard. You immediately sprint over to make sure she's all right.

She lays flat on a small backpack and grunts as she looks up towards you. She has snow-white hair, full of volume, softly rolling down to her shoulders, though it's currently splayed out on the road around her head. Atop is actually a set of rabbit ears. You remember this being mentioned before, and you've seen a couple others as well. As for her outfit, she wears a poofy crop top decorated with frills and striped pink and white. It stretches around a big pair of perky breasts--not as much cleavage as Lithvir, but they're certainly there waving hello. She has a matching frilly skirt as well. From her thighs down to her shoes are white stockings covered in tiny pink stars.

"Hey. Are you all right?" you ask. Oh man she's so adorable. What's better? A bunny girl or an elf girl? I can't decide.

The girl nods and pulls herself up, but then she cringes. There are no markings on her body, but as she tries to stand, she nearly tumbles over. One of her legs seems weaker than the other. "Dang it. It isn't too bad, but I hurt my knee."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going and tripped."

Not only does she have the ears of a rabbit, but a tiny cotton ball tail protrudes from her lower back. Overall, she looks even more vibrant and eye-grabbing than the rest. Her outfit reminds you of an idol's or something.

"Dear me. Can you walk?" asks Lithvir.

The bunnyfolk nods. "Mostly. The problem is that I'm a performer. A dancer more specifically. And if I can't move at one hundred percent, there's no way I can do my job. It hurts just to put weight on it, but if I really start moving, it'll be impossible to do my routine." She places a hand on her bare belly. "And I kinda needed the performance money to get dinner..."

You ponder for a moment. "Wait. Hey, Ms. Lithvir? Can I talk to you quickly?"

"Of course you can," she replies.

The two of you turn, and then you whisper quietly. "Do you have money on you right now?"

"You would be so kind as to offer charity? My heart is warmed, but I admittedly do not have much. We also need to eat as well."

"What if I said I could make the money back?"

"I would be intrigued. You are new to this world, yet you already have such ideas. Please, do as you wish, and I will support you."

"Uhm. I can hear you," the bunny says with a tilt of her head. "Please stop whispering."

"S-Sorry." You clear your throat. "I'd like to pay you for something that isn't dancing, but I think still relates to you being a performer."

Her cheeks start to flush. "No... Please, sir. I'm still a virgin..."

"Not that! Have you ever had someone paint you?"

"Oh no I haven't, but that would be amazing. To be valued to such an extent to where somebody would want to sit down and paint a picture of me. Every day when I'm dancing, I wonder if people will remember me. If people like to watch me."

"I have with me a special item that lets me instantly get a picture of you, kinda like a painting, and I'd like to pay you for it."

"Pay me?" She brings a hand back through her hair. "I don't understand."

"Because then I'd like your permission to sell the photos afterwards. You get paid, then I make the money right back. It's easy. I know you probably don't believe me, but I really do have something able to do this. And even if you don't believe me, well you're getting money anyway, right?"

She looks at you with concern. "Well, all right. I guess that's fine."