Anya, not yet aware of the peculiarities of Bellum, didn't understand that the headaches were going to lead to Very. Bad. Things. She'd spent the two days since moving in with Esme painting her room an appropriate shade of sea-foam, and her lungs had paid the price. Which meant the change found her when she was lying in bed, her nebulizer making a soft, soothing sound beside her.
When the scene around her changed, she saw it; she watched it happen. And then she was at the end of a long table where none of the faces were familiar. The only person Anya had met in Bellum was Esme, and therefore even the tenants were unknown to her. She looked down at her dress, reached a hand up to touch hair that was controlled in a way hers normally wasn't, and she looked down the long table.
For a dream, it didn't seem half bad, and she smiled at the unknown face beside her, and she stole their cigarette with a slow flick of her wrist. "Might as well smoke, if I'm dreaming."