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[hr][right][code]13 Mourningdove Lane[/code][/right]

[color=00a651]“That, or a man in a ghost costume is gonna chase us around a corridor full of doors.”[/color] Rowan replied to Bea’s speculation, the reference to an old cartoon was clear. Humour did somewhat well to calm the nerves.

She had thought she was smart by bringing a flashlight, [i]had[/i]. When the lights went out, so did her torch, she thought she switched it off accidentally. When the lights went out a second time, she thought it might be battery problems. By the third time, she understood whatever ghost was messing with the house was also messing with her. Rowan decided to stop embarrassing herself fiddling with the switch. It stayed off from then.

The flickering lights were a settling thought though. Although a master of magic it seemed, this Archivist clearly had a penchant for the dramatic and one who spent energy trying to look scary and mysterious ironically appeared to be less so. Rowan was about to make a quip about it but decided she didn’t want the attention. Instead, she took in the faces of their company between the flickering lights. Luckily some were familiar

Rowan didn’t know Lena too well personally, but she was her parent’s favourite comedian at the Grinning Imp. Her recent ‘disappearing act’ after the fire was cause for more than one dinner talks speculating on what had happened to her. Lena’s presence at such a meeting gave Rowan a peer behind the curtain of that mystery; the small elemental floating next to her was enough to hit anyone over the head with the answer.

Next to her was Ja… son? He was undoubtedly the silhouette Rowan had seen earlier and she was glad for it. No one stands as tall as he does in Twin Pines without getting some sort of reputation. His was friendly and distinctly non-threatening.

Emmy was a pleasantly familiar face to see but it was no surprise. It was reminiscent of weekends cooped up in the library with faint rays of sun peering through to light her pages. The girl seemed to only ever appear in such a place; an entity of the scholarly arts who you could approach for a nice conversation. Even before the emergence of magic, those memories hung in her mind so ethereal. Of course Emmy was going to be here of all places.

Rowan knew a decent amount of these people and, unless they were secretly the friendly neighbourhood serial killer, they were safe. It settled her mind further that none of them tried ground on her and Bea between moments of darkness. 

The next part happened in a blur. The man who introduced himself as Matt called out their watcher from on high, who floated down to join them. Pom dropped her pie. This ‘Azure’ was likely the Archivist. Flair for the dramatic, solid grasp on his magical abilities, and an unnervingly confident gaze that screamed he had this gathering of fledgling mages in the palm of his hand.

[color=475ca0]“Will you fucking shut up for one minute?”[/color] Bea suddenly spoke up in a manner that [i]could[/i] have been addressed to anyone but only Rowan knew was truly addressed to no one. That didn’t matter though, heads were already starting to turn their way, Pom already apologised for something she didn’t do.

A quick panic set in for Rowan. What if the group started to suspect Bea was talking to nothing? What if they started to believe that magic was making her go crazy? That unknown of a person’s mental state brings fear and with the added danger of magic… could they see Bea as a threat? Were they going to turn on them? Oh no, oh no, even the Archivist Azure was looking at them now.

[color=714F8E]“Ah. Was that meant for me?”[/color] He said in amusement that [i]could[/i] clearly be hiding that he was about to banish Bea to Mars in a second. Rowan needed to cover for her friend quickly. What [i]were[/i] friends for if not ready alibis?

[color=00a651]“Sorry!”[/color] She eeped out quickly toward the rest of the group. [color=00a651]“I was talking the whole car ride over… I’m a chatterbox when I get talking.”[/color] A nervous and half-hearted laugh followed that did little to conceal the worst lie told this evening. [color=00a651]“It’s Rowan.”[/color] She decided not to describe her powers. Truthfully, it wasn’t going to be of any use if anyone in this mansion was a threat and she would rather not scream ‘I’m defenceless’ to the gathering. 

Luckily, before anyone could enquire, Pom had already started talking about cobbler and driving back to the diner for another pie. Rowan felt bad for the waitress, she knew a nervous wreck when she saw one, she [i]was[/i] one. But at the same time, in a selfish train of thought, she was grateful that Pom drew the attention more effectively. Rowan took her preferred position as a wallflower.