(Untitled)

[holy_oats]

Oats has left his books in his room for the evening, a feat which had required a supreme act of will, and is now wandering along the hall in the direction of the stairs. He hopes that he runs into Miss Faith, because he's managed to bless quite a bit of holy water for her.

Comments

[apureparagon]

You know that feeling that people get--a sinister, niggling chill that someone is behind them? He probably just got that feeling right now.

[holy_oats]

In fact, he is feeling rather chilly. Oats glances around for open windows.

[apureparagon]

There is one, over to the left. A chill breeze is swooping in through it, making the sheer green curtains float around in the air like a cload is reaching a misty hand through the window.

That must be all that he felt: the wind.

How cold it is for this time of year though, even for a place based on Scotland...

[holy_oats]

Er. Well. Somebody ought to do something about that, oughtn't they?

Seeing no one else about, Oats takes this duty upon himself and goes to the window, shivering a little at the breeze.

Drat, but this thing won't budge. The billowing, gauzy curtains aren't helping matters.