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[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] Interior Silversmith's Shop 
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color]  Ritual Casting [i]Identify[/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [color=black][i]Morty[/i][/color]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A 
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/PDSdxgt/Victoria-FC-6.jpg[/img][/right]
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	Once committed to a Ritual, there was little else that Victoria could do without spoiling her efforts. On the occasions that she had performed a ritual spellwork before, there wasn't a pressing concern that it might be interrupted. Her knowledge of these things was not so complete that Victoria could predict what would happen in the event that she had to forcibly stop, either. Maybe nothing, aside from the spell's energy dissipating into the Weave around them. Maybe [i]something[/i], if the power was to rebound upon her or her ritual equipment. Or maybe a wholly unexpected result. The unknown was usually interesting; a poor temptation but one nonetheless. Such thoughts were fleeting and minuscule anyway as there was no way (that she might think of at that moment) Victoria would voluntarily sabotage a Ritual. But something hinted that it might, regardless. 

	The prisoner had moved. Not a lot, but enough to divert some of her attention. Tied up or no, Victoria didn't like the idea of a hostile entity around them only to provide a distraction. Even in her attempts to keep her mind on the spellwork at hand, a thought trickled in that roughly translated to, [color=9932cc][i]"Why are we bothering to keep him alive? Why are we bothering to keep him at all?"[/i][/color] though she did not let a syllable of this reach the open air. Instead, she kept the issue of their enemy to the others in the party, specifically those who insisted on his presence in the first place. 

	The Ritual of Identification continued quietly as her free hand slipped into her pocket to produce a small, leather pouch. Victoria made sure to keep physical contact with the hammer, lest the spell fizzle away. Next, she picked up her collection of small bones again and tossed them like dice upon the cloth they were previously wrapped within, noted the results, and smiled. [color=9932cc]"Almost there,"[/color] she whispered, her voice melodic and ethereal. One might barely notice the darkening of her eyes, which spread downward as if necrotic energy painted her face with sorrow, contrasting the barely visible tips of her teeth brought about by a grin of budding accomplishment. The ritual was coming to fruition.