"Out we go. Following?" Morgaine called out to Torquil. He stared worshipfully upon the lantern, reduced to little more than a stupor. "Hey," Morgaine said, trotting up behind him and laying a hand on his shoulder. "The old lamp'll be here come the day." That was as much as she can do for the poor fellow, if he can't snap out of that lamp's mesmerizing influence. If he stays much longer, he'll disappear too before too long, she reckoned. Like that other man, whose features she could barely get a glimpse of before he was gone. She turned and followed the church servants outside, but not before laying a hand on her heart and the other on the door. Touch the door before emerging into open air. Some gates are an illusion, and some doors are made of air, after all. A door must be solid to protect those housed within. Satisfied with her little ritual, she shrugged and walked out.

Yharnam was chilly, oddly so for a city so filled with fire. The cold feels almost malevolent, sapping at the heat and making the dots of flame in the distance flicker and weaken. A faint mist obscures the upper limits of the skyline, making the spires look as if they're somehow disconnected from the ground. Indeed, the dimensions of the entire city feel off somehow. Too gaunt, too lanky, if those words could even apply to building edifices. Grey bricks line the streets in big, uniform blocks, and Morgaine's country boots clop merrily over them with the sound of horse's hooves. Mayhaps on a sunny midday this place might even look beautiful, but everything about it screamed intimidation. What better place for the powerful Healing Church to seat its authority? 

Morgaine continued to practice her motor skills. Walking she had almost gotten down, back to before the awakening. Jogging was a little awkward, catching up to the two church folk, but seemed natural enough on these uneven brick roads. Her arms were also just about ready to cooperate, though her fingers still felt a little stiff. She wouldn't be doing much in the way of needlework in this state. 

"Lovely night we're having," Morgaine said, approaching Adelicia from behind and hoping she doesn't jump. "Brisk is the word. Better than rain at the very least."