<div class="floatleft">(http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l521/ElliMichi/Night%20Vale/40fe351c-2cd4-476b-9c87-c40669ef0045_zpsd4697af6.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Ellen Markovy<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Echo Chamber<br/><strong>Where In That Location:</strong>Anxiously pacing somewhere in the vicinity of the espresso bar, amongst other spots, with an acute expression of terror and caffeine-craving<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>This shirt and skirt (https://40.media.tumblr.com/b7be7e3e46403074d3257a58f3d4d626/tumblr_neqcyvutv11siyt4oo1_1280.jpg), These earrings (https://40.media.tumblr.com/ac04df148d0802604e566fe8d90d5468/tumblr_mf71u9Dkgw1qgrjkqo1_500.jpg), Painted nails like this (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/b2/9f/b1b29f7d8beb4489eb26dee0603cc8cb.jpg), and These shoes (http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/92/da/37/92da37f6aa9d5311d84120fccfd8747d.jpg)<br/><strong>Tagging Who?</strong>Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Today had started so well, but it seemed like it was once again veering somewhere into the category of “weird,” which kept happening a lot in this town. It had started with Ellen needing to find a new place to get a caffeine fix. She was a sucker for all things related to coffee, and when her current landlord had suggested the Echo Chamber as the best place to get a Council-approved espresso (council approved? What?), Ellen had figured it would be a good place to try out.<br/><br/>She had not counted on the peculiar set of instructions for how to get there. Her landlord really hadn't told her much about the place, only that someone would surely help her settle in and get her an espresso for a lovely price. But her landlord had told her to go to the telephone booth, that one rather oddly close to her home, and pick up the receiver to ask for an espresso. Then she had been told to: “Wait to be shifted over, and ask for Randy. Or if something goes wrong, just scream. Screaming usually gets attention there; it's a chanting place after all, not a screaming place.”<br/><br/>Off she had gone...and she had used the telephone booth.<br/><br/>Now she was there in a place with a bloodstone circle, beanbag chairs (who had those anymore?), and...actually, she was rather impressed with the construction of the place, although the lack of windows made her feel keenly claustrophobic. She inched over to the espresso bar, unsure exactly what to do. She could hear some chanting going on; had her landlord mentioned chanting? Surely she had. She peered off and noticed...was that the radio host of the Hairy Ballerina? She noticed a fellow by the bar, and noticed him address Jez.<br/><br/>Feeling bolder, she got closer to the espresso bar. Had that wall just swallowed someone?<br/><br/>Immediately she backed away from the bar in the hopes that staying very far away from the walls would help. She bumped into a beanbag chair, which crooned:<em>Hello, miss, can I help you?</em>“Are you a beanbag chair?” Ellen asked suspiciously.<br/><br/><em>You say that like it's a bad thing. Why not try to sit down on me and see what you think?</em><br/><br/>Ellen inched over to peer at the chair. She was fiarly sure she should not put her ass on things that talked. On the other hand, it did look comfy....surely a beanbag chair was not dangerous....