Who: Phillip and ?
Where: The Village streets
When: Nearing sunset
Warnings: None to speak of

It couldn't be said that Phillip was settling in to his new situation though he had, at least, spent time finding his way about the Castle inasmuch as he needed to. He could now find his way to his room, to the food, and to the stables. He'd also managed to find the right person to ask about having baths brought to his room though he hadn't availed himself of any other 'service' the maid might have provided. Truly, he'd only been in the Castle enough -- once he'd found his way -- these past several days to sleep, eat, and bathe as needed. The rest of his time had been spent riding all over the land surrounding the Village.

He had also discovered that one couldn't just keep riding away forever. No, eventually -- and he hadn't quite managed to put his finger on exactly where the line was -- he always seemed to find himself riding back toward the village even when he could have sworn he'd been riding in a perfectly straight path "away".

Magic, again. Far too frustrating.

He'd ridden quickly, he'd ridden slowly, he'd walked on foot, he'd gone in all sorts of directions, and had even briefly considered (but discarded) the idea of riding backwards. It didn't seem to matter how he went, he still couldn't actually leave.

And so it is that a tired, frustrated, and possibly homesick prince may be seen walking back into the Village as the sun is going down, leading his horse beside him.

Who: Giovannuzza and Victor Fox
Where: Handel's Tears
When: Very late evening
Warnings: Gratuitous nudity!

It was probably odd to imagine so, but Albert Magnus was one of the few humans Gia tolerated with good humor. He was a terrible, rotten bastard, perhaps even more so than some others, but he never presented himself as anything more and that was what made him different. Others tried to pretend that they were trustworthy, or generous, or kind, and it was that deception that was the basis of all that she found wrong with mankind in general.

So she served revolting drinks in his disgusting bar to his hideous patrons; it passed the time and both fulfilled and quashed that irritating need for human contact she found herself fighting day in and day out. And when the last of the seedy drunks stumbled out in the wee hours of the morning, she would bid goodnight to that terrible, rotten bastard and leave to make the rest of the day her own.

She circled around the back of the building, weaving through piles of trash and discarded furniture (mostly broken from the all-too-frequent brawls) and down one of the less-traveled alleys. Thinking herself alone in the darkness, she kicked off her shoes and began to shed the remainder of her clothing.