<strong>Name:</strong>Fey Morgan<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Back Room of the Underworld Tavern<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Midday (ish)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>All<br/><br/>The world slowly came back into focus, and the world looked like a dirty grey plastered back room with a rough wooden table in the center of the room and a group of people passed out and sleeping around the room. Oh and not to mention the bottles, oh so many bottles, all empty on almost every surface there was. The upper arch of the chair stuck in viciously to the top of Fey's back. She licked her lips, her mouth dry, and it tasted like the sandpit at her son's playgroup. Smacking her lips began to move, feeling the aches throbbing in her body, from sleeping in an uncomfortable chair in a strange position. She let out a grunt, sigh, moan and whimper as she began to move the lead that someone had somehow switched with her limbs. It was only once her eyes had properly focused and she readjusted her glasses she saw the woman standing still in one corner, still, motionless yet somehow amused. Obviously she was waiting for them all to awoken...what had they gotten into?