<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/gzkeEiS.png)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Medb Mag Uidhir (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2044223)<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Guest Quarters<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>A loose fitting dark cloth dress, some foliage, a pair of heavy work boots and a backpack full of books and equipment<br/><strong>Content: </strong><br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Medb had barely been able to sleep, dozing in and out of consciousness, her mortal body needing rest but at the same time being untrustworthy and not quite willing to let the tendril arms of the night usher her into a position of helplessness in a place her better judgement had guided her away from during her stay on the island to observe the fauna and for a time she had been thankful for the storm - while mostly the sound of rain pattering on a window (or canvas were she in a tent) would help her fine gentle respite the rage of the storm bade her mind awake for longer than she would have naturally until it had disspiated, being replaced by the fog that frosted the window. Her eyes were leaden now though, heavy from the simple passage of time.<br/><br/>That is, until the sound of movement above and the rattling of their door frame tapped her senses awake. Other ladies, capable in their attentiveness and quick reaction were readying themselves with spells and steel. She found herself roused, thoughts of sleep vanishing for now in unfamiliar spaces and with others on alert. And then there was that banging, the muffled scream.<br/>"Did... did anyone else hear that?" she asked, surprised at her own hushed tones quiet as a church mouse as her nerves nearly stilled the voice in her chest