log; welcome to roland, morgan

[hammy]

[Congrats, Morgan. You're... well, you probably have no idea where you are. Judging from the surroundings, though, it seems to be a noble's home, late at night. The hallway is mostly dark, illuminated only slightly by light coming from other rooms, the air is silent—

—and then there sure is a knife flying straight at you.]

Comments

[intendance]

[She really does have no idea where she is, that's for sure. The sort of surroundings around her are at least somewhat familiar, having been in a number of upper class dwellings in both Ylisse and Ferox.

But...the air is different here. Something isn't quite the same. Idly, she squints into the dark, calming herself, and--yes, it's much easier to see the spirits that Zohra always--

Zohra.

It's a rush of memories of a time she'd almost forgotten, somehow, and it almost gets her killed. A second sense, a survival instinct that has kept her alive on countless battlefields, saves her now. She drops to the floor immediately, blade whistling right above her head to stick harmlessly into the wall with a quiet thud.

And she scrambles to her feet, reaching for her tome, but it's dark and she's not an assassin; this isn't the best situation for her, combat-wise, and she knows it, hissing out a startled--]

Gods--!