[hr][hr][center][h1][color=7fbf40]Sylvia Strange[/color][/h1][/center][center][img]http://67.media.tumblr.com/5c1df81b99b6f701267a80979453a724/tumblr_inline_n6i8zq7ZbN1sgladw.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=7fbf40][b]Location: Inn[/b][/color]
[color=7fbf40][b]Interacting With: Danica’s Dog ([@Lady Amalthea])[/b][/color][/center][hr][hr]

Sylvia couldn’t be happier that Belial finally left her alone. She thankfully slept the night away, no haunting nightmares or late-night demon attacks. From having two grannies combust in her room, to having to report a house fire that could’ve burnt down the entire town, she needed some beauty sleep right now.

Sylvia arose fully awake and rested this morning. Hearing the therapeutic cracks of her back as she stretched in the silent morning air rejuvenated her spirit. Sylvia went by her morning routine. Wash face, coffee, pray to the eldritch gods of the Old Times by dabbing the blood of saints on her wrists and muttering ancient oaths, and of course, some breakfast. As Sylvia watched over her slowly cooking toast, the warming bread wafting a delicious aroma around the room, she could’ve sworn she heard barking. She heard a few barks too last night, she didn’t think much of it, but now being accompanied by whines of distress, Sylvia couldn’t help but to be curious. 

Ignoring her half stirred coffee for a second, Sylvia peeped out of her room. Head hanging outside as she peered into the dusty halls of the inn. This mystery dog, while faint, was close. She looked back at her breakfast and a growl rumbled in her stomach, just realising how little she ate yesterday but was breakfast worth the life of a dog?

In the end, she decided to ignore the dog. Going back in and starting to lather her toast in some cheap butter. It probably was just a dog in need of a walk. However, something stirred in Sylvia's heart. A heavy weight on her soul that made her lose her appetite. As she dumped her toast in the trash, she felt something was wrong with that dog. Maybe she was being paranoid, maybe her spidey sense was kicking in, whatever it was, it was too late now. The whines have now long since stopped. She just prayed that dog was ok.

Sylvia dragged her feet to her bed, flopping herself down and listening to the silence as she watched the sunlight pool and flicker on her floor. Why did she feel so unsatisfied? Why couldn't every day be another awesome battle with a Qareen or something? She came to Altsoba looking for adventure, she envisioned herself as some grand hero on a quest. But now, she was seriously considering just packing up and leaving to rejoin her brother. Altsoba held nothing in its small walls, and there was no place for her here. Her prophet's house burnt down, and with growing paranoia, there could be another witch hunt any time now. Maybe she was better off going back home.

[hr][hr][center][h1][color=c0fff4]Eudora Esmeralda Erebus
[/color][/h1][/center][center][img][/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=c0fff4][b]Location: Somewhere Altsoba[/b][/color]
[color=c0fff4][b]Interacting With: Lost Cat/Her Dinner (if the cat doesn’t behave)[/b][/color][/center][hr][hr]

Eudora roamed the streets of the unknown town until the sun came up. An unusual feat for a nanny, but Eudora was all about being unusual. No one and nothing bothered her that night. She was left to wander freely in this modernised town. Nothing really surprised her, everything was practically the same since the last time she was here in the 90s. But an aura of magic hung around the town that made her giddy.

As she passed down the same road for the 10th time, she stopped for a second. A meow echoed through the dead silent air. Eudora spun, her snaggly teeth grinning wide. Eudora absolutely adored cats, what good witch wouldn’t? Her still, cold heart thought fondly of her long lost cat Coal. She could hear him now, meowing again for his milk.

The cat that approached Eudora was way different than her proud, sleek black cat. The little kitten was orange, [i]The colour of joy![/i] Eudora thought as she approached the cat. [color=c0fff4]”Aww, poor kit, lost are we?”[/color] she bent down to greet the cat as she spoke sweetly to it in her vaguely Scottish and American accent. [color=c0fff4]”Don’t fret, I won’t hurt you,”[/color] she whispered to the mewling kitten, but still it yowled and was angry as she curiously peered at the stump on one of its legs. She clucked her tongue and frowned at the kit, [color=c0fff4]”Hold your tongue before I cut it off! Stop whining and tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll throw you in a pot and call you mystery meat.”[/color]

What’s wrong with today’s animals? Do they no longer speak her tongue? Has this new world corrupted their pure spirit with foul machines?

[color=c0fff4]”What? Family left ye'? Got in a scrap with a mangy mutt?”[/color]