[There was an unconscious drunk sleeping in the middle of the courtyard.
Sieglinde was making her way across the castle in her usual way- mincing, delicate steps on three-inch feet in a swaying of skirts, one hand held tight on the thick leather collar of the skull-faced canine she called her familiar. More like an aid dog, really, but. Let a little witch have some dignity.
While before she might have sniffed disdainfully and continued on to the library to return the books in her arms, (Magic of the Seventy Three Realms, Potion-making Traditions of the Swamp Witches, and others of the like overflowing in her arms)... that would have been before her possession. Before that day.
So she stopped. Pulled at Isengrim until the bizarre creature obliged and accompanied her towards the sleeping drunk, where she stood somewhat helplessly for a moment before frowning, putting all but one of the books down then straightening up as tall as she could-
In order to hit him on the top of the head with Herbal Tinctures & Balms of the Illian Sorceress.]
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Sieglinde was making her way across the castle in her usual way- mincing, delicate steps on three-inch feet in a swaying of skirts, one hand held tight on the thick leather collar of the skull-faced canine she called her familiar. More like an aid dog, really, but. Let a little witch have some dignity.
While before she might have sniffed disdainfully and continued on to the library to return the books in her arms, (Magic of the Seventy Three Realms, Potion-making Traditions of the Swamp Witches, and others of the like overflowing in her arms)... that would have been before her possession. Before that day.
So she stopped. Pulled at Isengrim until the bizarre creature obliged and accompanied her towards the sleeping drunk, where she stood somewhat helplessly for a moment before frowning, putting all but one of the books down then straightening up as tall as she could-
In order to hit him on the top of the head with Herbal Tinctures & Balms of the Illian Sorceress.]