That morning, yawning and futilely (it would seem) clutching a cup of tea from the coffee shop, Adah had gone and checked her mail, and, at first, it would have seemed that her traverse this time hadn't been like all her other, previous handwavey trips. Waiting for her there was an envelope, with the neatly printed address label of Emory ( Read more... )

Adah had woken up perhaps an hour ago, just enough time for her to have a shower and put what little food into her stomach that she knew she'd been able to keep down. The room was still a bit chilly, though Honour must have closed the window opened to help the room air out. It definitely had, but the acrid smell of her getting sick yesterday ( Read more... )