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Instead of [i]actually[/i] doing her job, the region's go-to farmhand had found herself wandering about the city of Wellborough. Sophia seldom visited the town itself, finding the magically-suppressed capital quite irritating: Sure, she herself didn't use magic, but Sophia found the fact that the Nephlim decided to block all magical power from the town, without even informing or [i]asking[/i] the Grand Council for permission first. 

Though the barrier protected the citizens from Alithe's dark forces with dangerous power, Sophia had to wonder about instances where some citizens would be safer [i]with[/i] magic in town: Physically weak wages wouldn't be easy targets for thieves and muggers, healers wouldn't have to leave town with their patients in order to deal with a medical emergency - which of course put the injured at risk. Sure, Wellborough was heavily guarded by the council guard, but they couldn't be expected to stop [i]every single[/i] crime from happening - it would just  be impossible. Much of the population felt bitterness toward Raziel and his forced laws which honestly made day-to-day life [i]a lot [/i]more difficult and tedious than need be.

Sophia was pulled from her thoughts when she had to suddenly stop in her tracks to avoid being bowled over by two drunken men hurtling towards her, obviously having been forcibly discharged from The Silver Swan. The poor girl had nearly overbalanced, which would have caused her to unintentionally join the human pile. She couldn't help but let out a wail as she, quite ridiculously, flailed about in attempts to re-balance herself. When she eventually [i]did[/i] make it back to her feet, Sophia had to let out an irritated grunt as she stared at the Inn, which was now filled with applause. Dusting off her skirt, Sophia bitterly thought, [color=F08080][i]applauded for nearly knocking a girl out? How [b]noble[/b].[/i][/color]

The farmgirl hitched up her skirt as she trudged toward the tavern, before bursting into the sizely lodge with the most [i]infuriated[/i] look plastered on her face. "[color=F08080]Okay, [i]who[/i] threw the drunks at me?[/color]" the normally sweet girl demanded, her knuckles white as she clasped firmly onto each of the tavern's door. Normally, Sophia was the friendliest soul around, but recently her fuze has been growing shorter and shorter; she wasn't sure [i]why[/i] exactly, but her strange instability, along with her birthmark burning and seering itself in the most [i]painful[/i] ways as possible, really didn't help her bitter mood.