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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] Avonshire Township, South Entrance
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] Spellcasting [i](Prestidigitation)[/i] 
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [color=black][b]Morty[/b][/color], [color=dimgray][b]Nox[/b][/color]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/G4Q5dMgC/Victoria-Twilight-Screenshot.png[/img][/right]
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	The cold was officially a problem. It was easy to ignore at first, as the wonder and newness of their outing remained fresh for hours after the initial push toward Avonshire, but time stepped in to blunt those feelings. And so it was that she sought solace in her books, which were genuinely interesting, but even this began to dim. The light was failing, anyway, and her Half-Elven ability to see through relative darkness with greyscale detail didn't matter a whole lot when dealing with print upon a page. But the cold, to a woman who generally preferred spirited songs and a roaring fire while observing winter on the other side of the window, was a difficulty that she very much wished to overcome. Concentrating a tendril of arcane energy into her voice, Victoria softly vocalized a little heat into her hidden armor, which served quite nicely against the worst of the frigid evening. At least temporarily. To her credit, for purposes of estimating propriety, Victoria had chosen not to use the coffin to bolster herself against the cold. 

        ...this time.

	Getting closer to the Township was a blessing, with which anyone might agree, but which carried with it the baggage of certain realizations. The first one was benign enough, pointed out by Victoria with a positive tonal shift of, [color=9932cc]"Oh my, look at that! I remember a lady in Darenby mentioning a carnival, or come such, which was to arrive after Harvestide. How marvelous. I had quite forgotten."[/color] Another moment's worth of consideration struck her with a sharp observation, [color=9932cc]"They..."[/color] she sighed, [color=9932cc]"They are encamped between Avonshire and the cemetery. It will not be easy to have a private conversation with Monsieur L'Rose."[/color]

        On the plus side, it was nice to be recognized by the soldier manning the southern gate. Usually, when she was noticed by someone she didn't personally know, it was because of her musical talent, or more shallowly, because of her "flawless-yet-approachable" physical appearance. Alternately, it might have been very negative, as it wouldn't have been the first time she was recognized because of some moral objection to the way she used her magic. Morty was an excellent example of this, even if he wasn't animated in exactly the same way as other Thralls. But this [i]was[/i] probably the first time that she was recognized for "offing" someone, and treated positively as a result. [color=9932cc]"Think nothing of it, brave sir. This was all due to the careful forethought of your dear Sheriff Arbalest. It's really he that deserves accolades."[/color] Victoria smiled, broadly and with the very image of sincerity. She was good at this. But in the back of her thoughts, this was still a possible unknown situation. If positive, spreading the glory would make her look humble, and thusly more heroic, or at least a touch more favorable. If negative, well... An ounce of plausible deniability, or being seen as a neutral hired hand, allowed for the barest of wiggle room in tense social situations - areas in which Victoria really shone. And the Bard wasn't convinced that there weren't still a few people in Avonshire who supported Constable Cavendish, or at least his goals. 

        Once inside the log walls of the Township, Victoria climbed up to the driver's bench next to Baronfjord, turned to him, and inquired, [color=9932cc]"It's late already. We have a few options here; where do you want to go?"[/color] She still has the keys to the woodworking/furniture shop and was eighty percent sure that guy was dead. There was the Hayloft, which had surprisingly served them well during Harvestide. Then again, there was Neil & Bob's Public House, if you didn't mind a shared, communal sleeping area. There were more options available in town, Victoria was certain, as the rush of Harvestide was over and people went back to their respective places. Even Madame Marcie's Honey Barn was a possibility, though Victoria believes there was a matter of unfinished business. But all of those choices were dependant on the decision to stop for the night and rest from their travels. They didn't [i]necessarily[/i] have to. Though the mule might thank them profusely if they did. 

        For the time being, the burlap-wrapped Morty stayed in his spot in the wagon, the undead version of a conversational piece of side furniture, next to Victoria's small errand cart. Subtlety, until they get to what they knew was anonymous and/or friendly territory. Nox circled overhead twice, before settling down next to Victoria.