Who is she?

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           She woke up in unfamiliar terrain. It didn't bother her, at least not for now. She just wondered where she was. She got up and looked around. There was a few zeppelins flying in the sky above, docking at towering buildings of copper and rock. Cogs and gears poked out of the sides of well-lit structures, turning merrily. Houses built into the mountainside, looking so inviting with their open doors and windows. Lanterns and bells swung with in the wind, their lights and sounds bouncing around the craggy cliffs. She decided that she liked it here. 

           She wandered closer to the village, and was struck with how empty it was. Curtains fluttered in the breeze, and someone, out of sight, adjusted it. A name was called, and a cat wearing a collar jumped down from a tree and ran towards its owner. People definitely lived here, but they were a skeleton crew. There were houses prepared for citizens that so far didn't exist. It was odd, but for now it didn't bother her. She was content to watch and see if anyone lived in this ghost town. 

           Just then, a blonde lady stepped out of a house nearby. As she moved, the newcomer got the feeling that she was in a state of constant caution. The careful way she walked; no one did that except out of practiced habit. She wore a plain white buttoned blouse, stained with oil and grease after a long day of tinkering in the workshop. Knobbly leather gloves with the fingers cut off protected the wearer's hands from the sharp edges of gears. Her baggy pants hung from suspenders with copper buckles. Her hair was loose and a tad messy and uncombed; held in place only with a pair of tinted oxidized goggles. Her electric-blue eyes widened in surprise as she saw the newcomer watching her. 

           "Who- who are you?!" The lady asked, her hand darting to her sword. "I don't know," The newcomer replied serenely. It was the truth. She didn't remember her name. The blonde-haired lady studied her for a moment. "How did you get here?" She finally asked. "You're not wearing an elytra, and it's a long journey up the mountain on foot." "I don't know." The newcomer repeated. "I just woke up here." 

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           False was unsure what to think about the newcomer. So she just woke up here, like me... And she doesn't remember things, like me... She was jumping to some conclusions, but if the girl was telling the truth and she didn't remember her name or how she got there, she most likely had amnesia, just like False. And there weren't many people like her. 

           She watched the architect, her startlingly violet eyes not blinking once. In fact, she hadn't moved since False first saw her. She was waiting for a response. "Um, do you want to come in? I've got tea boiling," False said awkwardly. The strange girl thought for a moment, then she nodded. "That would be nice," She said softly. 

           False took her to her house. It was embedded in the mountain, just like most of the buildings in Cogsmeade. Living within the earth felt more... right, than just building on top of it like most people did. False sighed to herself as she opened the door to reveal the mess inside. The grand architect of Cogsmeade didn't really expect much visitors; it wasn't exactly in her nature to clean up often. Note to self, tidy up more. 

           Scraps of papers with memos and reminders written on them, that should be pinned to walls, were instead lying haphazardly on the floor. A chair that was supposed to be free to sit in had books as its occupants. An armada of clocks fastened neatly to the wall in a long line of ticking timepieces. Wrenches and gears and other tools lay, unsorted, in a toolbox. At least they're in the toolbox, False told herself, remembering how the week before she'd been sleepwalking and woke up to the pain of stepping, barefoot, on a pair of pliers. 

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