--[Open!] eye of newt and wing of bat?
Characters: Anathema Device [ thebooksaysso ] and YOU! :D
Setting/Location: Caravan level 2, Kitchen
Date & Time: Day 1, the wee early hours of the morning
Warnings: None for the moment!
Summary: Sleep is for the weak, so Anathema commandeers a corner of the kitchen to make some delicious witches brew tea.
Find information on what the hell was going on and explore the village some? Done.
Grudgingly board and explore the caravan some? Also done.
Find her room and meet this "Bianchi" she was supposed to bunk with? ....currently a work in progress. While she wasn't quite sure of her stance on rooming with a perfect stranger--pointedly ignoring the fact that it wouldn't be the first time, of course; this was completely different, it really was--she would get around to it. Eventually.
But for now, Anathema only felt restless, tightly wound, and filled with what felt like the first pangs of homesickness. What she thought must have been the first pangs of homesickness. And she was currently taking it out on a bundle of dried herbs, carefully measuring them out into a small mug she had found while a teapot boiled away on the stove next to her.
A little bit of tea would help her relax. Especially this particular recipe she had put together. And she probably wouldn't object to sharing an early morning pick me up with anyone else that happened to stumble in.
Setting/Location: Caravan level 2, Kitchen
Date & Time: Day 1, the wee early hours of the morning
Warnings: None for the moment!
Summary: Sleep is for the weak, so Anathema commandeers a corner of the kitchen to make some delicious witches brew tea.
Find information on what the hell was going on and explore the village some? Done.
Grudgingly board and explore the caravan some? Also done.
Find her room and meet this "Bianchi" she was supposed to bunk with? ....currently a work in progress. While she wasn't quite sure of her stance on rooming with a perfect stranger--pointedly ignoring the fact that it wouldn't be the first time, of course; this was completely different, it really was--she would get around to it. Eventually.
But for now, Anathema only felt restless, tightly wound, and filled with what felt like the first pangs of homesickness. What she thought must have been the first pangs of homesickness. And she was currently taking it out on a bundle of dried herbs, carefully measuring them out into a small mug she had found while a teapot boiled away on the stove next to her.
A little bit of tea would help her relax. Especially this particular recipe she had put together. And she probably wouldn't object to sharing an early morning pick me up with anyone else that happened to stumble in.