Sona begins to pull boxes from the case she's unpacking. First being a brand new scroll, still in the box, in the white on black color scheme. It's followed by an unopened standard issue dust weaponry maintenance kit. The kit is in a crate resembling a military ammo box, with a child lock latch. Next comes a small wooden box that can cheaply bought at a craft store. She pops it open quickly, revealing thread and needles before closing it again after affirming it's all in place. Then comes yet another box, this one a clearly labeled first aid kit. It's beaten up and clearly old, yet stuffed to the brim with supplies.
Boxes placed on the bed, she flips a stray lock of hair over her shoulder and goes back into the case. Clearly already at the bottom, she pulls a single black shirt, much like the tank top she has been wearing, and a pair of worn out jeans. She looks at her wardrobe skeptically with a flick of her ears, then places the two items inside.
She returns to the case and hesitates for a moment. She sighs visibly and goes back into the case. Out comes a few very strange outfits, including a maid outfit clearly used at a cafe in town, a barista uniform, a formal waitress's outfit not out of place behind a bar counter, and a dress cut far too short to be practical. Sona's lips are pursed and eyes are closed as she looks up from her handful of random outfits and turns to the wardrobe once again. The sheepishness on her face is no less apparent.
She gathers up her remaining affects quickly, socks and other such small things. Nothing else comes from the case as she closes it, still trying to avoid eye contact after her prior trip to the wardrobe.