[sub][@Psyker Landshark][/sub]
While the newspapers brought up some concerning local news, it was informative enough to release the dorms that Jeanne was staying in as well. After all, she [i]was[/i] supposed to be functionally under house arrest, and considering the nature of how rooming worked in Bermuda, it was more or less a public service to alert other young, budding Polymaths of whether or not their apartment featured a psychotic arsonist who burned down libraries and didn't even care enough to pretend she was remorseful.

The Incan-style apartments then, was where Valeriya ended up.

By the time she arrived, most of the premises had been vacated, the residents having left during the early hours of the morning to either get things done or prepare for anti-fire measures. A few students lounged still by the beautifully clear pools, enjoying fruity drinks and the warmth of the sun, but beyond the smell of grilling meat, Valeriya could sense a more disturbed stench. Her training had exposed her to it, after all, as a simple matter of course when learning to fight with electrically-charged less-lethal weaponry. The smell of burned flesh. The drops of blood upon the stair steps, flaking and dried out, but still very clearly visible. If she had waited for noon, perhaps this would be gone, flakes brushed away and air purified by seaside breezes.

But for now? Something was certainly off here. She simply didn't know what.