witchofthechalk: (Flying with Feegles)
[Tiffany is tired. No, worse. She's not tired, at least not properly tired. Properly tired was spending two days on your feet without sleep. It was helping a new mother give birth to twins. It was when you spent your time on something that made the sheer exhaustion feel like an accomplishment rather then a weakness. No she wasn't tired. Not really.

But she was worried. And she dreams of eyeless things, angry music and gingerbread houses in the woods. And she decides since she's a witch she's going to have to do something about all this. Or a few things.

A. Housemates: Tiffany is sitting on the living room floor while she goes through the small wooden box of her small things from home.

B. Tiffany is walking down the street with a broomstick floating in the air behind her. She's holding onto it by a string as she walks along.

C. Susan, people at Susan's house. There is a witch knocking on the door.

D. There is a girl and a broom on a hill. While that might be a little odd, the strange thing is that she's flying. Rather low to the ground but still flying. It helps her think.

ooc: Tiffany is now able to hear spill words.]
witchofthechalk: (at work)
[Tiffany is looking at a box in her lap. She got it in the mail and she is opening it with some nervousness.

She knows what it is. It's her box of keepsakes. The one she'd brought with her from her home when she was travelling away to live with other witches. All of the things that were valuable in some way to her, and only her. 

She can be found in the room, just going through the contents. Trying not to let her homesickness get the better of her.]