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[h2][color=darkorchid][i][b]Victoria Belmont[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=9932cc]Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5[/color][/b][/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 33 / 33	[color=9932cc][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 16	[color=9932cc][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Coach House (Taproom)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] Skill Check [i](Persuasion, Performance)[/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [color=black][b]Morty[/b][/color], [color=dimgray][b]Familiar[/b][/color]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/ZzgLdXRt/Victoria-Alt-8-ss2.png[/img][/right]
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	The light verbal sparring provided by Baronfjord might have been a refreshing change of pace for Victoria, except that she wasn't really feeling it right in that moment. So far as she might be considered flighty because of her actions from time to time, she was mentally dealing with a commitment to travel and ...potentially committing a felony... in the name of getting answers. Far be it for her to dampen the fun, however, as she responded with faux seriousness, [color=9932cc]"Why, of course not. My stallion is a ten minute summon."[/color] She finished off her bowl of soup - as good as it was, she opted to keep her portion modest. There was yet a little something to do this evening, and she didn't want to weigh herself down for the occasion. But she did interact more genuinely with the conversation which followed. [color=9932cc]"Of all the places I mentioned, I would avoid The Silent Eaves. It used to be something special, but now it's just a place for the dead; and the dead rule there. Myself, I only visited the garrison stationed outside of the place. The Paladins of Khimn keep it pretty isolated, and for a reason."[/color]

	To Kathryn's disbelief on her lack of a visit to Arcanaple, Victoria merely responded, [color=9932cc]"Your rediscovered city sounds fascinating. But no, my family's established trade routes haven't taken me in the direction of your homeland. Perhaps one day, I should love a tour."[/color]

	After respectfully putting away her bowl and utensils, Victoria walked back to her things and slid herself into her favorite coat. Like most of her belongings, it came in various colors of purple, black, and grey. She buckled her laden swordbelt on over it, and slipped her obsidian shard of a wand into it as an afterthought. [color=9932cc][i]"I shall have to find a better means of carrying this,"[/i][/color] she thought, and became curious as to what distance necrotic damage might do to a grunt level undead soldier. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to find out tonight. She left her exceptionally bardy hat where it lay on the table, and instead took up her new black and gold pashmina, which she draped over her hair and tied stylishly in the front. If the wind wasn't too bad, this would be adequate to the time she expected to be out in the cold. Victoria took up her violin; indirectly her most powerful sword and shield, and took a step or two toward the door. her movement was immediately halted by Lizbeth, who asked [i]the question[/i] which may potentially shatter the impressionable girl's opinion of her. Victoria set down her violin and waved Lizbeth over, claiming two chairs toward the corner of the room for them to talk. 

	It was difficult to make out what they were discussing, but one could tell that Lizbeth was going through a series of emotions, while Victoria kept a beautiful, serene expression on her face. [color=9932cc]"...back during Harvestide, I made sure that your grandfather got a ceremony appropriate to his beliefs. I am no Cleric, but I did my best. And now, all of us are doing our very best to make sense of what is happening, to you and to the land. But despite our best, we are not solving this fast enough. I have the means to ask a few questions directly to the former animus of the fallen, that we may use to help everyone. This does not involve his soul in any way. He is not discomforted by it, and it does not disturb the fate of his eternal spirit. It is like reading a few, obscured parts of a detailed book describing a person's life. The author isn't aware whatsoever, but so much knowledge may be gleaned from it, if we know what to ask. I shall do so as respectfully as possible, but - and I stress that this is necessary - I will have to take a shovel to your grandfather's resting place. Do you think that he is the type that might forgive me, as we are doing this to protect his granddaughter?"[/color]

	Victoria might have sighed with relief when Lizbeth gave a quiet affirmation. Her serene look remained unchanged, as was her custom at times of uncertainty like this. [color=9932cc]"All right. I am leaving early in the morning to get back to the Township. I might be a day or two. Do you think that your aunt might begrudge me the use of her hayloft again? Or maybe there will be actual lodging, now that the festival is over."[/color] On the other hand, Victoria [i]did[/i] still have access to a building in Avonshire that she and Marita had investigated, and never quite had the time to hand the keys back over. 

	In any case, after the quiet affirmation, Victoria gave Lizbeth a warm embrace and rose to exit the building for her Winter's Night performance. She took up her violin and stepped deftly toward the door. She paused before exiting, suggesting to Baronfjord, [color=9932cc]"You know, if you have ethical concerns with what I'm doing, perhaps you should join me back in Avonshire tomorrow. Keep me out of too much trouble, yes?"[/color] 

	Victoria didn't go too far from the Coach House. In the gloom, she was accompanied by her Morty, who kept a rigid pace at her heels and took up a vigilant position near her, partially buried in the snow. Despite the temperature, her Raven circled overhead briefly before taking a nearby position of vantage on the Coach House wall - an extra set of watchful eyes from an elevated location. The building was constructed on a rise, which was mostly all that she needed, although she might have walked as far as the watchtower, like she did the last time she tried this. Back then, it was about expressing herself artistically in a new location, really attuning herself musically to the place in what was supposed to be a sort of vacation. This time was different. When the bow was put to strings and she found herself swaying to the music she made, the intent was to observe. The last time, she heard music play back - plucked or strummed strings which could not have naturally carried that far, that clearly, playing a tune which complimented her own music. So she played. The melody was cast into the air, punctuated by her mellifluous vocalizations as her desire called for it. It was a superior performance by all objective accounts, even if the Bard felt she was capable of better. 

	And somewhere, in the distance, still air allowed the sounds of strings plucked with proficiency to reach Victoria's ears. Something was listening. Something was responding. Victoria and her menagerie returned to the Coach House very shortly afterward.