((Please forgive me if I am behaving incorrectly here. I am new to this type of roleplay and still and getting my sealegs. If I make a mistake, please tell me and I will try my best to correct it. Right now, I'm pretty much winging it.))
Maggie entered the small town with trepidation. She came at night, as she was apt to do, and avoided all but the most necessary human contact. She stopped a man once to ask for directions, and that was all. Head down, hood up over her board straight, mousy brown hair, dark russet eyes on the ground, she scurried like a mouse through the moonlit town. On the far edge, she found what she was looking for. A small house, creaky and in disrepair, stood there expectantly, as though waiting for her. There was a small garden out front, or there had been. Now it was little more than a bed of weeds and briars. This saddened Maggie more than all the rotting wood and gaping holes combined. At least that she could easily fix though. The house was terrible, she knew. But it as a house, none the less. And a free house at that. She silently thanked her Aunt Flora for leaving it to her and wished her peace in the adventure beyond. Flora had understood Maggie perhaps better than anyone. She knew, despite the girl's constant traveling and claims of "loving the road", that she longed for a home. Perhaps this would finally be it. She certainly hoped so. But memories of other towns and other homes told her not to get her hopes to high. She dismissed this thought for the moment, forced on a smile, and made her way up the walk. She half expected to get caught in the numerous briars that covered the house. The thorns, however, inexplicably avoided her, as they always did. Yet another sign of the destiny she didn't want. It wasn't that she had anything against hedge witches. Aunt Flora had been one to, after all. But she wanted more than that. Not that she was ever likely to get it, the way things were going so far. She opened the creaking door with the clumsy brass key Flora had given her and stepped inside, coughing slightly at the sudden cloud of dust that the action produced. She had avoided claiming the house for a good two years, and Flora hadn't lived in the little shack for four or five years before that. It was no wonder it was in disrepair. She sighed. She'd work on fixing the little house up in the morning. For the moment at least, there was a bed in the corner of the upstairs room, and that was enough.
Maggie entered the small town with trepidation. She came at night, as she was apt to do, and avoided all but the most necessary human contact. She stopped a man once to ask for directions, and that was all. Head down, hood up over her board straight, mousy brown hair, dark russet eyes on the ground, she scurried like a mouse through the moonlit town. On the far edge, she found what she was looking for. A small house, creaky and in disrepair, stood there expectantly, as though waiting for her. There was a small garden out front, or there had been. Now it was little more than a bed of weeds and briars. This saddened Maggie more than all the rotting wood and gaping holes combined. At least that she could easily fix though. The house was terrible, she knew. But it as a house, none the less. And a free house at that. She silently thanked her Aunt Flora for leaving it to her and wished her peace in the adventure beyond. Flora had understood Maggie perhaps better than anyone. She knew, despite the girl's constant traveling and claims of "loving the road", that she longed for a home. Perhaps this would finally be it. She certainly hoped so. But memories of other towns and other homes told her not to get her hopes to high. She dismissed this thought for the moment, forced on a smile, and made her way up the walk. She half expected to get caught in the numerous briars that covered the house. The thorns, however, inexplicably avoided her, as they always did. Yet another sign of the destiny she didn't want. It wasn't that she had anything against hedge witches. Aunt Flora had been one to, after all. But she wanted more than that. Not that she was ever likely to get it, the way things were going so far. She opened the creaking door with the clumsy brass key Flora had given her and stepped inside, coughing slightly at the sudden cloud of dust that the action produced. She had avoided claiming the house for a good two years, and Flora hadn't lived in the little shack for four or five years before that. It was no wonder it was in disrepair. She sighed. She'd work on fixing the little house up in the morning. For the moment at least, there was a bed in the corner of the upstairs room, and that was enough.