The walk home was long, as always, and Sybil used the time to steal glances at the townsfolk, taking note of their whispers and side glances at each other and their neighbors houses. Lately, everyone seemed to be on edge, and the accusations of witches always seemed to be on the tip of their tongues whenever something strange happened. [i]"Keep a clear head, and don' judge a book by 'ts cover."[/i] her mother constantly said when ever Truth brought up stories of witches and accusations. Sybil always enjoyed her mother's views on politics, as the woman was rather smart, now if only her personality was a bit sobered down... She gave a small sigh and stopped her wandering, fanning her beat-red face with outstretched fingers, returning her thoughts to witches. The whole idea of killing someone over the fact of them being different was a rather sickening thing, but what if there were witches lurking about? Would they be dangerous? Would they want to hurt others? A shudder passed through her spine and then faded as images of fire and gore passed through her sight, and after a moment of standing stunned she continued on. [i]'It's no good to scare yourself, Sybil. Let's think of other things... Like... Pranks for Henrik!'[/i] Ursula's rant about the obedient man left Sybil with enough inspiration to start planning. There were plenty of ways to go about with pranks, letters falsely signed to appear as business or love notes, buckets filled with mud or water, tied to a door so as one walks through they get a face full of liquid, frightening mask placed just outside a bedroom window, awaiting to be seen by sleepy eyes. So many lovely options. Sybil felt a smirk push against her lips but she withheld it, and instead stared ahead blankly, appearing as she did everyday when she passed through the town towards her family's farm. No need to break routine, it might frighten others. Eventually, the heat began to become troublesome, and as she continued on Sybil found that she was having trouble seeing straight. The road in front was turning, becoming two, reforming, and at times vanishing all together. Everything else seemed to be white until she focused in on it. Sweat dripped from under her head wear, soaking her smoldering blue eyes with droplets of warm water and forming pools on her eyelashes and lips. She began to concentrate on the ground below, trying hard to keep her breath regular and foot steps straight. Her head pounded, and heated fingers rubbed at irritated temples. A familiar shriek of laughter broke her concentration, and Sybil turned slowly, focusing in on a group of women, one being her sister, Truth. They were whispering and giggling loudly, perhaps about the incident with Millicent as everyone else was. Her sister lifted her head back after every word, laughing, and her neck and face gleamed with the glimmer of heat. She swayed in the windless air, the mirage of the heat making it appear as though the blue cloak wrapped around her shoulders was wavering violently. The color blue claimed her vision suddenly, and everything became silent, only filled with a loud ringing. Fabric stretched across her arms, soft as wool, and wrapped around her shoulder. The color blue slowly began to narrow down until it was only a piece of cloth enveloping her body. It was a... Blue cloak? Flames danced in her vision, all around, burning her, killing her, the shawl was burning, faster, faster. Stop. Stop that. Don't let it burn. Don't burn. Stop. Her hands were skeletal, burned to the marrow, blackened like ash, and her dress was tattered and burning. Whispers filled her ears like water, bubbling louder and louder as the flames enveloped her and the cloak. Her eyes were wide, burning silver, as she reached for the shawl that had been ripped from her grasp, but only ended up catching embers. Breathlessly, Sybil shrieked, falling back into nothingness, and then found herself staring up at the clear, Warren sky, black dots buzzing about busily in her vision. [i]'Why am I on the ground?'[/i] "Syb? Syb! Sybil!" There was the faintest voice, calling her name, but O God was she tired. Sybil tried to call back that she was fine but her throat felt closed, and instead she began to silently recite the Lord's prayer. Her sister's face eventually came into view and she was sat up with gentle arms, finding that a small group of villagers had surrounded her. One came with a freshly wet cloth, and they dabbed at Sybil's red face and neck, whispering excitedly to Truth who only nodded in return, her face tight with worry. "I'm gonna take you home, 'kay, Syb? We'll sit in the basement where it's cool and you can tell me stories, okay?" "... Okay." surprisingly, her voice was back and barely strained. Truth and the man with the cloth helped her stand, and again, surprisingly, she could balance with only a little support from her sister, and then they were walking, silently and together, through the endless heat of the summer, through the excited circle of neighbors, and back towards their home. --- Barwicke Farms was just barely in Warren, as the best land was off the village's border. Fields of gold and green bloomed behind the small cottage, surrounded by a crude wooden fence. A deep well sat just within the fence's perimeter, the bucket dark and dripping as if it had been used just a few seconds before. Mrs. Barwicke sat on the porch, staring down at the two girls with wide, worried eyes. Sybil could barely register the whispers that passed between the two women, and then she was suddenly being dragged quickly into the house and down into the cellar. Cool air suddenly chilled her burning skin and the smell of wet rock and mold over powered everything that she had been thinking before. Truth slowly knelt down, pulling Sybil down beside her, and then began removing Sybil's outer clothing until she was left in her plain, white shift. Already, the burning head ache and aching limbs were beginning to subside, and she let out a soft sigh of relief as her body sat upon the cool stone floor. Another wet cloth was wrapped around her forehead, and drops of water burned her sun-strained eyes and filled her dry lips. "Relax for now, Sybil-hunny, you be just fine dearie." her mother's voice echoed throughout the room and Sybil opened her mouth to say thank you but the stout woman was already climbing back up the steep staircase to the main house. Silence once again filled the air, and Sybil relaxed against her sister's shoulder as Truth tugged at her hair gently, "Any stories?" Truth asked quietly, to which Sybil could only shake her head, then lower back into her silent thinking. Maybe... Truth would be interested in her prank planning. The two often planned together, and this would be a nice bonding exercise for the two... "No stories," Sybil started, "but I have an idea for a prank." "Oh? For who?" "Henrik." "Bastard probably deserves it." Silence once again, and then Truth moved up, causing Sybil to falter and nearly face plant into the floor. She glanced at her sister and noticed very quickly that she had an idea. The brown-haired woman stood fully and quickly ran upstairs, her boots banging loudly against the old stairs, and she returned within moments with a paper and ink well. "Write down what ya need, I'll collect everything and then we can prank the Hell-" a dainty hand went up to cover her mouth after uttering the 'H' word, a mischievous smirk planted on her lips, before continuing, "outta that Magnusson kid!" Sybil couldn't help but smirk back, and with sudden inspiration she began listing out items, the memories of the vision and heat spell quickly exiting her excited mind.