Sinthia had followed the path--no sense trying to navigate another, rougher way when one was laid out for her--and come to the edge of the abyss, looking intently down into the impenetrable fog. Visually, nothing can be seen, and she supposes it isn't entirely outlandish that nothing is coming to her in any other...less conventional ways. She's loathe to try teleporting here: she could materialize inside a rock face or something equally inhospitable. But the near siren-call of the darkness below is enchanting. At least until she breaks away to find her way into town.
Bodies Without Souls
From any distance away, the calm, studious expression on Sinthia's face is hard to see. She's watching the window, looking into the shop with a faintly furrowed brow; the figures moving inside look all too real, but they're not there. She can't feel them the way she can the presence of the others here. It's curious, and the tapping only makes her more so: eventually she's made her way as close to the glass as is possible, holding one bare-fingered hand up as if to touch it and see what the tapping noise is. Startle her and you might see something very interesting: she simply reaches through the glass before turning and pulling her hand back into her coat pocket.
The End Approaches
Since reading as much as she can of the map, and the rest of the bulletin board, Sinthia has sat down on one of the chairs, with a piece of the provided paper. She only writes something simple: the date (as she remembers it), her name, and a reply to the person looking for someone with plant knowledge. I have some knowledge of poisonous plants and fungi, and can identify them. She has no address, or she'd give it: as it is, she feels fairly certain someone who posted a message will eventually check on it.
Sinthia Schmidt | Marvel
Sinthia had followed the path--no sense trying to navigate another, rougher way when one was laid out for her--and come to the edge of the abyss, looking intently down into the impenetrable fog. Visually, nothing can be seen, and she supposes it isn't entirely outlandish that nothing is coming to her in any other...less conventional ways. She's loathe to try teleporting here: she could materialize inside a rock face or something equally inhospitable. But the near siren-call of the darkness below is enchanting. At least until she breaks away to find her way into town.
Bodies Without Souls
From any distance away, the calm, studious expression on Sinthia's face is hard to see. She's watching the window, looking into the shop with a faintly furrowed brow; the figures moving inside look all too real, but they're not there. She can't feel them the way she can the presence of the others here. It's curious, and the tapping only makes her more so: eventually she's made her way as close to the glass as is possible, holding one bare-fingered hand up as if to touch it and see what the tapping noise is. Startle her and you might see something very interesting: she simply reaches through the glass before turning and pulling her hand back into her coat pocket.
The End Approaches
Since reading as much as she can of the map, and the rest of the bulletin board, Sinthia has sat down on one of the chairs, with a piece of the provided paper. She only writes something simple: the date (as she remembers it), her name, and a reply to the person looking for someone with plant knowledge. I have some knowledge of poisonous plants and fungi, and can identify them. She has no address, or she'd give it: as it is, she feels fairly certain someone who posted a message will eventually check on it.