"Hm, so much for a hovel," Riley remarked as she crossed one of the numerous bridges in the town known as "Burrow".

It was a bottomless, underground town, as far as the witch was concerned, with wooden doors poking out every now and again to indicate there being some business or residence and the aforementioned, interlacing bridges leading across to the spiraling, earthen ledges; which in themselves were wide enough to allow someone to walk beside a mule-drawn carriage, if they so desired. Dirt-covered faces scurried about, but they never so much crowded the place as they did inhabit it, and the noise was never above that of a conversational level. The fact that it was inhabited by almost nothing but beggars and thieves -- as she had discerned from a travelling merchant on her way there -- explained as to why she had never heard, or even read, of this impressive and, in her opinion at least, homey town. And it was all under a simple hillside.

[i]Seems to be a rather simple town, this 'Burrow' is,[/i] she thought casually as she entered through the door entitled "[i]Tavern[/i]". It was a simple enough place inside The Tavern , too. A single room with three doors in the back (two entitled with just "Room", and the other "Toilet"), a wooden bar built into the surrounding earthen walls, with the occasional stool, table, and chair littering the place in great number; and just like the bar, they were all wooden. Riley took a seat at one of the tables at the opposite, corner end of the room and right next to one of the "Rooms". She could feel the eyes of the bartender and a few of the patrons on her; no doubt from the sight of such a small girl carrying such a long weapon. A dainty (were it not for the dirt, and age apparent on her face) waitress, who looked to have little enthusiasm for her job, strolled over to where Riley sat, and asked, rather plainly: "Waddya want?" Thankfully -- after only ordering some juice and exchanging the necessary payment -- their interaction was kept short.

The witch was, plaintively, on alert; her eyes never once leaving the door, back out to the main hub of the Burrow, not even to blink. Her terracotta mug, still untouched, spun slowly in its spot on the table as she circled it in her enclosed hands. She was nervous and unsure of what to expect from someone she had only properly met less than a month ago. Riley could feel the bags under her eyes from her restless night before, and the untold amount of crying she had done as she fled her home. All she wanted at that very moment, was some small peace; a peace which only sleep could bring. "What harm could it really do," she muttered as she gave in to the baser desire of sleep to her own security. Besides, she would hear the creaking the door makes when Cygna came in.

...

"Hello, my daughter." Riley jolted at the sound of her mother's voice; her hand immediately over her shoulder to grab the pole-arm strapped to her back. It couldn't have been more than a few moments since she dozed off; how could the witch opposite of her sneak up like that so easily on her? "I am glad you are alone; nothing more bothersome than a girl who doesn't abide by her mother's wishes," the scarred witch continued on, chuckling at the end of her statement. "But do relax dear," she said eyeing the point at which Riley's hand met her weapon narrowly; bringing a porcelain teacup to her lips as she did, "You'll add the years on worrying about the worst-possible scenario all the time."

A moment passed between mother and daughter with the younger simply starring, wild-eyed, as the older continued to sip on her brew, whatever it was. "So," Riley finally said, "I've spoken with my uncle, and all I was able to get from him was that my father was a mage... But there's more, much more from what you've implied. What is it? What exactly do you know that he doesn't?"
"Well first of all, he wasn't a mage, or any sort of magically talented individual for that matter," Cygna said casually, studying her daughter's face for her reaction; something she had a hard time hiding. Riley wanted to protest, but the note at which her mother had finished meant there was obviously more. "-he was merely... Possessed; by a demon like the one birthed at our meeting at the volcano, no less," a smile came across her face, "Strange how such things work, hm?" She was obviously implicating that the two had a connection, despite there being so.
Riley was dumbstruck. Her accusation was nothing short of crazy... but it would fit in with what her uncle had said -- that her father hadn't been born with magic -- and... Was she really in a position to question the woman who had lived with him for nearly five years? She downed her simple soft cocktail in a single swoop, and, in a gasp of breath, hollered at the waitress. "Give me a bottle of the strongest stuff you've got, on her," she pointed at her mother, who could only smirk at her daughter's actions. "Now you," Riley said, returning her attentions, "Continue. Everything you know about him, and who- [i]why[/i] I am."