[@Forsythe]

Old parchment rustled soothingly as Tahira turned to the next page in [i]A History of Elrikur[/i], which she read with a complacent smile in the shadows of her hood. She sat cross-legged between two bookshelves on the floor of the tavern’s library, absorbed in her reading as usual, with the gentle murmur of conversation and revelry drifting in from the rest of the tavern to provide a warm atmosphere. As she read, many new sounds mixed in with the conversation, adding flavor to that atmosphere. The harmonious melody undoubtedly played by Viggo, and the excited chatter that could only mean the arrival of Naida. These things were interesting, yes, but they didn’t break her concentration on the book before her. At least until she felt the backlash. Expanding outwards from a single point beyond the door, a virulent wave of arcane energy washed over the tavern. Tahira had little time to prepare, so as it passed through the library it scalded her delicately attuned magical senses, much like walking from the darkness into bright sunlight would sting the eyes.

The book dropped from her hands, followed quickly by a foreign curse which would have revealed her coastal heritage were there any in earshot. Rubbing her temples, Tahira climbed to her feet cautiously. Whatever that had been, it was likely not intentional and she sensed no further spikes in magic coming from the next room. However, just to be safe she erected a spirit barrier around herself, invisible to normal eyes, which would protect her from the disorientation of another wave. Picking up the fallen book, she placed it back on itself and brushed off her knee-length robes. There would be no going back to reading now, she had a few herbal remedies which would soothe her headache, but a drink would do the same and it gave her an excuse to investigate what had just happened.

Naida was apologizing to Sessamaru profusely as Tahira stepped out of the library and into the tavern. It seemed that his potent magic was at the center of this issue, but they were not well-acquainted enough for Tahira to feel comfortable prying. Instead, her eye caught the Witch, Margaret, who was ensconced in the same bench she had been the night prior. It was a safe assumption that she had been similarly affected by the magic, so Tahira thought it would be a good opportunity to approach her. Of course, she didn’t consider what the combined effect of alcohol and volatile magic might have felt like at so close a range. Stepping up the witch’s table, she addressed her prone form.

“Was that as...[i]uncomfortable[/i]...for you as it was for me?” she asked, her voice it’s typical low-pitched murmur.