[center][h3][color=fff79a]Guinevere[/color][/h3][/center] [hr][hr] [center] Location - Patsy's Florist Shop [/center] [hr][hr] At first, in the midst of a deep sleep earlier that morning, Gwen had subconsciously believed the rumbling sounds to be those of mounted guards thundering over the wooden bridge at home, on their way to dispatch messages or inspect reports of trouble in one of the villages. When pictures began falling off the wall to startle her into groggy consciousness, she realized it was nothing more than another earthquake. Sleep was not to return and there was no point in chasing it down. So it was that, just as the pale grey of dawn began to creep into the cold, damp world, Gwen exited her loft apartment and made her way down to the florist shop below. Electricity failed to spark to life when the switch was flipped. Not entirely surprising when none of the other buildings on this street displayed any hint of light either. But it was vaguely irritating to know that she would have to successfully weave through what was certain to be a maze of upset tables, broken pottery, and toppled plants in the near dark before she'd be able to find the flashlight Patsy kept behind the counter. Glass crunched beneath her boots as she gingerly tiptoed through the mess, briefly considering turning around and leaving until it was light enough outside to be able to see. The closer she got to the back of the room, however, a nearly indistinguishable sound caught her attention. The sound of running water that was definitely not the rain dripping off the roof. A pale beam of light spilled from the flashlight, sputtering and flickering in an irregular pattern, a clear sign the ancient batteries weren't going to hold out much longer. Shoving aside a crumpled box of ribbons and a mound of plastic wrap, Gwen carefully eased the door to the greenhouse open, yanking it at the last second to get it over the catch in the floor. Humid air escaped into the shop, heavy with with the scents of dirt, foliage, freshness and decay, and the perfume of many exotic blooms. A film of condensation clung to the inside of the structure, warm air rising to meet the cool glass, droplets gathering and sliding down the inside of the panels to match the course of the rain that spattered against the top of the greenhouse. At first glance everything was normal, amazingly nothing appeared to be out of place or even upset by the earthquake, give or take a few pots that had toppled over. The hope that nothing had been severely damaged died the second Gwen stepped down from the shop, muddy water splashing around her feet as she landed in a puddle that shouldn't have been there. The faint sound that had prompted investigation turned out to be several burst pipes that were merrily spewing cold water over already drenched plants, well on the way to creating an indoor flood if left unchecked for much longer. Wading over to the valve Gwen did her best to crank it shut, knowing full well the old seal would only slow the deluge, not stop it entirely. Still, it managed to slow the water down enough to keep any more disaster at bay for a bit longer. Unable to stand up against the rain and severely drained batteries the flashlight died halfway back to the loft, and Gwen had to fumble about in the dark until she found her phone, completely failing to notice the notification that she had missed a call as she spent the next couple hours trying to get a hold of plumber. Strange as it might have been to people, Gwen didn't give more than a passing thought to the others in town. She had grown used to depending on herself since coming here, finding it difficult to form close friendships with any of the others. Besides, she knew perfectly well they could handle themselves through an earthquake, goodness knows they'd had plenty of them lately. Right now she had to try do what she could to fix the situation at hand and keep her job.