[center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][table][row][/row][row][cell]
[h2][color=darkorchid][i][b]Victoria Belmont[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=9932cc]Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3[/color][/b][/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 23 / 23	[color=9932cc][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 15	[color=9932cc][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Avonshire Township, out and about 
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A 
[/cell][cell]
[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/tpv4vyV/VicSS.png[/img][/right]
[/cell][/row][/table][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]

	Victoria hadn't imagined that making a mundane delivery of huge casks of wine would actually be [i]fun[/i]. But here she was, actually having more of a pleasant diversion than she might have considered. Maybe it was the allure of the festival and all of its exciting notes that spurred on her morale, or just the opportunity to see how another land embraced the changing of the seasons; this one with a sense of upbeat optimism. Well run festivals were a joy to Victoria's senses. Sights, smells of good food and flowers, the music (probably the biggest draw for her) that served to broaden her own professional horizons, and a hundred different, tiny details that she might never have known about had she not been there to witness them personally. This was facilitated very effectively with their roundabout route throughout town, and for once she was grateful for a sub-optimal, meandering path. 

	 Upon reaching what appeared to be the biggest amount of hubbub, this being in the middle of the town which featured an interesting fountain; one which seemed a little more elaborate than one might have built for a town of this size. The music and dancing got into her head and rattled around a little bit. For someone who coaxed and utilized strands of The Weave in the same manner as one might compose and play a song, music was important. Lyrics were spoken incantations, the movement of feet were as drawing runes upon the ground. The instruments played served as the materials which bound it all together. Even if no metaphysical powers came to fruition, no mind beguiled nor mote of fire thrown at one's enemies, every song played with heart and talent was a magic spell all of its own, capable of great things from a skilled performer. 

	And so Victoria broke away from the group to join the throng circling the fountain, dancing to a tune which she did not recognize but made a point to commit to memory. She gave a quick mental command for Morty to stay with the rest of the party, but soon lost herself in a whirling, uptempo cavort, familiar enough to her in style that she could meld into the locals in deed, if obviously not of appearance. This was celebratory and rural, honest, forthcoming, and beautiful in its lack of unnecessary nuance. And so Victoria danced with the locals. By the time that the wagon had rolled past and was exiting the town square, she had made three complete revolutions around the fountain and could have gone for more, except that they did have a pressing job to do. With some regret, Victoria pulled herself away from the dancers, gave a proper, hat-sweeping bow, the jogged to get back to the party. A broad smile lay set upon her lips which did not falter until long after they moved from the party going on in the town's center. Helping unload the wagon was just an afterthought, following this. 

	The odd and provocative title of the Inn they were supposed to be lodging within drew her interest well enough, and while the proprietor appeared to be a sort of jackass, the barmaid had Victoria's attention plenty, as she was doing the work of, and putting up with the bullshit due, at least three waitresses. Her eyes hovered for a moment until she realized that she was beginning to stare, then politely smiled and tipped her hat, mind returning to business at hand. In short: No private rooms. Beds in a common area. Hayloft nearby might have to suffice. It was not ideal, but this was not the only game in town. Possibilities of other places to lodge flitted about in her head. Surely something could be managed. If not, the hayloft was preferable to the open sky. She wouldn't mind a quick tour after the delivery run was over. 

	The Farmers' Market was likewise interesting to her. This was where the salt of the land, local growers and craftsfolk gathered to have their own, more homey and rural version of the festival, as best she could tell. Offloading the single barrel, or helping as she could by lining up planks to form a ramp (as physical might was not her forte) seemed like so much less of a chore, hearing how excited they were to get this massive container of wine. Then she found out why. [color=9932cc]"Oh, there is a talent show?"[/color] she inquired with an optimistic, ambitious tone. Victoria was a lady of many performing talents, and adding the huge cask of wine to her personal belongings would fetch her a tidy profit, even if the party had their fill and they sold the rest for a silver a flagon. She smiled sweetly at the man, preparing to [i]schmooze[/i] like an Argenti bureaucrat at a diplomatic supper. 

	She was stopped cold. [color=darkgray]"I'm sorry, Miss..."[/color] The Very Important Looking Gentleman looked over to Victoria, a blush coming to his cheeks as he saw the dexterous, charismatic Half-Elf smiling sweetly at him, eyes a-sparkle and the world around her dimming against her radiant sense of presence. His resolve almost buckled. Almost. [color=darkgray]"Miss... ah, Lady. This is for local folk only, and sign ups are done with. Maybe next year? Or! Or you [i]all[/i] might come by after, and we could throw a real party, yes? Maybe? Well, think about it. Lots of fun, you know!"[/color] The made Victoria smile a little more genuinely. Yes, she was denied. But the festivities of the workaday unshackled from the oversight of the lordly was often the most unrestrained and honest of times, surrounded by more or less good folk. In her experience, anyway. 

	In contrast, dropping off wine at the Traders' Market was a runaround, and mostly a bore. The tiniest spot of intrigue came with the view they all got at the Silversmith's place. Victoria wondered why a shop owner would close up and then board their windows at the outset of a huge business period. It made no sense. But, that mystery would have to wait for a little while longer, at least. There was more wine to deliver to one final place. [i]Jacques Mallard[/i] was a name she would try to remember to ask about later. 

	And what a final delivery it was. This was a colorful place, certainly, with certain details that might give one less-than-innocent ideas about the nature of what did or did not occur within the walls of the [i]Honey Barn[/i]. The owner of this fabulous Barn made herself known, introductions all around, and Victoria could not help but notice that Madame Marcie was the tallest Halfling that she had ever seen. This had to be a gimmick somehow. But a shrug later, V established that it was likely not helpful to probe into that topic at this time. A couple of the others had their own questions and bits of conversation with the rather dramatic looking woman, and Victoria herself felt compelled to make her own attempt at influence. 

	She picked up on the Madame's comment that Cecily had lovely companionship. Stressing [i]lovely[/i] as if it might hold some meaning or another. Also, she seemed to have a proclivity for purple as well, though hers were more muted in nature. It was a point where she might begin. [color=9932cc]"Not remotely as [i]lovely[/i] as that corset, Madame."[/color] She accepted the woman's hand and bowed slightly, sweeping off her most Bard-y of hats with a flourish. [color=9932cc]"So sorry for my informality, Madame. It has been a little adventurous as of late and I have yet to properly relate the story! I am called Victoria Belmont, Bard of the College of the Grey Requiem. You may call me V, if it suits your proclivities."[/color] A broad smile and a replacement of her hat, and she continued, [color=9932cc]"I simply [i]adore[/i] your style, Madame Marcie! And I do so detest that those Goblins got into the wine earmarked for your establishment. I'm sure that you and Mrs. L'Rose can work something out, really I do. She's an honest woman, I think. But before we get into the drab necessities of whatever business talk needs being said, you must tell me where you got that scarf. It's gorgeous. Envy is making me green. Absolutely green, Madame."[/color] This was an unabashed attempt at fostering camaraderie based upon common interests and sociability. At face value. It seemed to be working.