[hr][hr][center][img]https://s23.postimg.org/h6shths5n/virginia.png[/img]
[img]https://s2.postimg.org/wlogxtv09/virginia_aesthetic2.png[/img][hr][color=9999ff][b]Location[/b][/color]: Crypt Townhouse Near the Strand, London
[hider=House and Description][img]https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2621/3928496504_fab1dba590.jpg[/img][center]The Crypts purchased the house ages ago, as their dear friend's practice was nearby. He was an undertaker. Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Alfred manages the household affairs, as the townhouse was originally used for attending events of the season, as well as to be present for public executions. Virginia takes a professional interest in them. That should hardly surprise you either.[/center][/hider][/center][hr][hr]	Virginia could not remember consuming any draughts the previous evening. Yet had she done so, Virginia fancied she would have deemed it the Draught of Living Death. Juxtaposing with her night terrors from before, her worries and fears for dear James' safety, there was only nothingness. A darkness complete and absolute enveloped her, causing any trace of existence and life to slip through her fingers. It was how she would imagine drowning to be, yet she could still draw breath. There was no weight crushing her lungs, just an endless night that seemed to smother her. 

	By the time the child's screams began, Virginia wondered if she had died and this was what awaited her. She did not fear death, though she was certainly curious about it. She only had two hypotheses that seemed to be valid: there was either nothingness or there was something. Regardless of which turned out to be the case, it would be an adventure she would gladly undergo--yet not soon, if she could help it. She had a duty to her brother, a duty to her family. 

	Yet it was not death, Virginia realized, as she rose from her bed. She had little notion of the time as she crept over to the window, glancing outwards. When she was small, she always fancied she could see Scotland Yard from that very window and her parents had humored that thought. They couldn't have been more proud to have a dreamy child interested in homicides and mental irregularities. But of course, they held just as much pride in James as well, the little budding arsonist. Virginia believed strongly that her parents would have loved to see the strides James had made in their absence. 

	[color=9999ff]"Beautiful..."[/color] Virginia murmured, looking at the dead ivy on the walls of the manor. Even the garden appeared to have suffered some shape or form of devastation, with only one flower remaining. The globe thistle, from this distance at least, brought a bit of a smile to Virginia's face. She adored its color, a pale purple. She would need to send her compliments to the gardener for such fine work. It was a devastatingly enchanting display, just what she needed to lift her spirits after the events of the previous day. 

	She had no knowledge of how long she remained in her room that morning, and despite dressing for the day, she remained inside. Perhaps, she wondered, it was a manifestation of her grief for Mosi. Only once the bell tolled ten did she feel no longer obligated to remain inside of her room. The insistence on that time did strike Virginia as peculiar--she could not think of any particular association she held between Mosi and the number ten. But no matter. She could think on it later. 

	"Ah, my lady! I was wondering when you may emerge this morning. Are you quite alright?" Alfred asked, carrying a tray with various breakfast items and tea towards Virginia's room. He had assumed that perhaps due to the events she had shared with him yesterday evening, she would not be joining them for breakfast. It would have been irregular for a Crypt, yet he made no judgments. 

	[color=9999ff]"I was surrounded by darkness and made its captive, until the screams of a child liberated me,"[/color] Virginia said matter of factly. 

	Had Alfred not been working for the Crypt family for years, her answer would have perhaps left him stunned. "Perfectly reasonable, my lady. The young viscount would be delighted to take breakfast with you, if you are so obliged." It wasn't the weirdest thing that had been said to him by a Crypt before, after all. He had heard far stranger explanations. [hr][hr][center][img]https://s8.postimg.org/nvq4ksl7p/maeve.png[/img]
[img]https://s2.postimg.org/88devw7h5/Regency_Chloe_12.gif[/img][hr][color=ff6600][b]Location[/b][/color]: Teriny Inn[/center][hr][hr]	The sugar inspired dream of being crushed by the parson might have been strange, but it was far better than what occurred after it. Once Maeve had fallen back to sleep, a darkness like death had claimed her, keeping her its hostage. There was nothing she could do to combat the emptiness, not until childlike screams ran through her mind. At first, she thought they were Roisin's screams, but the girl was safely in Ireland in Brennan territory. It could not be her, though Maeve was still tense and fretful. 

	Perhaps it was that fear that kept her in her room until the stroke of ten. She had changed and seen to her things, and with that done, sat on the bed quite uselessly, waiting for something she could not understand. Something kept her from leaving the room, ensuring that she stayed behind that door. Could it have been the devil, warning Maeve of the errors of her ways? She had committed a great deal of sins in her lifetime, that was true, yet she was still a Catholic. She still believed. 

	Eventually, the force keeping her inside the room seemed to vanish, allowing Maeve to notice the quietness of the inn. She had no notion of how long she had been awake. Leaving her room, she spotted Nigel and his wife moving about, handling the other guests of the inn. Thanking Nigel for the note, she read it quickly, a bit irritated with the parson. What was the point of using a false name if he would use her real one anyways? 

	Though she doubted she would see the parson at eleven. Securing the carriage might not have been too difficult for ordinary individuals, but Maeve was quite certain that the parson would find some way to get into an accident before he returned.