“Pink halla tavern, I'm gonna keep on daaancing at the pink halla tavern!”

Emmrich looked up from the leather-bound tome he was reading, having decided to take his studies out of his personal library and into the communal dining area for a change of scenery and a cup of peppermint and lavender tea, which was cooling on the table next to him, wisps of steam curling gracefully into the air. A moment of perfect peace, shattered by...

“Goodness me, what is that egregious caterwauling?”

“Bel, you in here?” Alana called out, walking into the room that had become Bellara's workshop. There was no sign of the Veil Jumper, just unusual tools, complicated diagrams on blue-toned paper, and several projects in various stages of completion strewn over every surface in the small space.

The Lighthouse, the strange building in the Fade which they had all been drawn to, seemed to adapt to its new inhabitants, growing new spaces, re-opening wings long closed off, and even furnishing them to the needs of each person. Bellara's workshop was a reflection of her mind, cluttered with ancient elvhen artefacts and new experiments, various notes on a dozen different subjects, seemingly scattered haphazardly but organised in a way that just about made sense, to Bellara at least.