Millicent cautiously took in her surroundings, eyes almost glowing at the emotion that fed through her soul. She felt death, decay, and was not one to intrude. Not unless she had to.<br/><br/>Her head tilts to the left, neck cracking loudly as she diverts her gaze from the Apothecary to a lit dwelling, the tavern. She will be able to enter there without a scene. She had business here in this town, at least one soul to collect, she just has not found it yet.<br/><br/>With a deep exhale, her body shivers, and she slowly makes way to the tavern. Her boots carry her quietly to the main door, a light and cool wind tossing the hem of her cotehardie billowing behind her as she enters.<br/><br/>Voices pause mid-conversation, a new comer to gawk at. She lowers her head, making way to the solid oak bar. The scents of the patrons, food and drink collide in her nostrils, and she sneezes, covering her face with her forearm.<br/><br/>Collecting her thoughts, she glances up at the bartend, her tone soft as a polite smile overtakes her features. "Tea please," she orders, now fidgeting as she waits.