For all that Benji can concentrate and carefully craft dreams from the tools available to her, it is the dreamer that can just. Rock the world at will. She was taught how not to get utterly disoriented during these bigger shifts, but even this one is a little jarring. Still, she appears along with the world's resolution, rugged in pale fox fur, boots sinking into crunchy snow. That fear-- it had been bone deep, as if the expectation had been for the strangely moving sky to suddenly collapses in giant shards--

She turns towards the voice, peering upwards.

"But are you supposed to be in a tree?" she asks, brightly, but there is a note of anxiety in her tone. There are voices in the distance, again, and this particular dreamer is so mercurial-- "I know," is a proper answer, apologetic. "I'm visiting."