Room 211, Saturday Afternoon

Cassandra did not have her roommate's issues with wine, and so she had a large mug of it sitting on her desk. It was inconvenient, as she had planned to clean her armor today, but she could wait another day - unless the island had decided to substitute the wine in the taps for something else, tomorrow.

No, instead she was sitting at that desk, attempting to... write.

It had begun to occur to her that she should chronicle everything that happened here, just in case it might teach the scholars back home a thing or two about magical madness. But she was terrible at it; words did not come naturally to her.

"Ugh," she muttered, striking through an entire passage for the third time. "Why?"

This had been a terrible idea.

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