[This isn't how Quentin recalled the afterlife looking. When he stepped calmly off the post-mortal coil, he was picturing his previous visit to the Underworld: sterile tile, numbered tickets, a bureaucratic expanse. The forest is new, and if he's honest, not entirely unwelcome. It doesn't make sense, though. Another world on the brink of disaster? Another yoke of responsibility, just after he's proven himself incapable of bearing the last one? This doesn't sound like peace, or rest.

Still, he can't help the strange prickle of curiosity that grows as the wagon reaches its destination. Everything about the place calls back to another time, another life spent at the edge of an ancient, welcoming village. The familiarity is both comforting and heartbreaking; a warm blanket over his shoulders, and a punch to the gut, a reminder of something long over. He needs to see more.

He also needs a Xanax and a fourteen-hour nap.]

Hey, what's- [What's this world called? he means to ask, trying to maneuver over the edge of the wagon. The horse gives one last jolt, though, and Quentin topples out, landing face-first in a puddle of mud.

Fucking spring rains, am I right? Hope someone has a ye olde towel.]

[Okay, so far this place doesn't seem like the worst, if you ignore the "brink of disaster" bit. But being freshly dead has kind of skewed Quentin's fight-or-flight for the moment, and as he awkwardly watches the festivities and gapes openly at the giant crops, he can feel himself compartmentalizing the bad shit for a later date. Probably tonight, after he finds a quiet corner to freak the fuck out in.

For now, he's still not positive that any of this is real, and that it isn't some death fantasy designed by his brain, letting him play out his high fantasy hero dreams. One detail is giving him pause, however, and he comes to a confused stop in front of the bone ashes. Execution is definitely not tonally consistent with the rest of this town, which otherwise looks like the opening scene of a Disney movie. Brows furrowed in characteristic confusion, he looks over at the nearest person.]

Is this, uh- [Interaction isn't his strong suit.] Does this happen... often? The whole- burning thing?

[Is he going to get Joan-of-Arc'd if he breaks a law? He doesn't even know the laws.]