[ A theological awareness Armand hadn't anticipated; he glances over at Iggy, a little surprised. The sunglasses match his hair, he really does look good in them. ]

Some have disappeared. Perhaps they got out. Fled into the wasteland beyond the garden, to whatever waits beyond.

[ Armand frowns faintly, looking up at the sky. He's thought of this often, but it's seemed largely pointless to explore it. ]

Whatever keeps us here, it's a powerful magic. Those who trespass the boundaries are turned back by their own bodies. A spiritual compulsion. Perhaps a physical one. In the air, the water we drink, the food we're given. A spell worked into the very fabric of our being. But for what reason? Are we in a place of punishment, or reward?