[Quitelovely487]

With a particular alertness Genevieve sauntered around the complex checking all the rooms and most closely inspecting the library that housed thousands upon thousands of books on pre med, law, and many rare first edition books signed by very stuffy and very dead old men. None of those things have any importance to her, that library could burn for all she cared but behind one of floor to ceiling bookshelves was what was once the old stock brokers “smoking room” and now repurposed into her magick-workshop of sorts where she kept all her spell books, blessed pens (for writing down new spells and drawing pentagrams on the body), and other materials for spells and hexes. Genevieve ousted her cigarette before entering and ran her hands across her big black spell book that had grown quite dusty in her absence being that no one, not even the house keepers were allowed to step foot within that room. The only person who had ever dared disobey her cardinal rule died in what the fire department explained as a fire with unidentifiable and fuzzy origins. Genevieve’s reflection was soon cut short when she heard a thud come from the terrace; what the hell was that? She mused, her eyebrows furrowed as she did an about-face and hastened out of the private room with her long black skirt trailing behind her. The only person she’d expect making an entrance via the terrace were her old friends from the Antiqa Fide Coven but no one knew the young Witch had been released from her two year long stay at Silver Crest Resting Home and she much preferred it that, she could find absolutely no reason she’d have a visitor.