[ The old woman's smile broadens, giving off the impression that there may be too many teeth to logically fit in her mouth. She taps on her own nose and points that gnarled finger back at Himeka. ]
[ The door opens wider of its own volition, the scent of fresh bread and rosemary wafting into the night. The Haggard glides aside, gesturing with a wide sweep of her arm. She abandons the broom, which continues to sweep on its own. ]
no subject
Ç̴̩͇͔͎̍̓ͅl̶̨̛̙̹̜̭̱̟͎̹̥͙̰̏̒̓͗̇͘͝͝͝ë̶͍͓̰͕͇̪̲̗̩́̅͛̒̀͑́͠v̷̫͉̓̎͒̇̄̕͘͝ẹ̶̛̘̯̭̰̄̑̌͛̎̓̏̋̍͝r̵̡̢̲̜̱̜̘̯̜͔̮̔͐̆̐͑͒̈̍̈͆̔̅̓̚̕͜,̴͇̬͈͕̔̆̽͒̎̊̉̓͛̃̑͛̀̀̃ ̴̢̧͙̺͔͓̼̆̓̔̍̃͋̉̓̀́̔́̈́̅̋k̶̰̦̟̰͛͐̓̓̏̆̿ĭ̴̦̮̠̝̘͈̝͒n̸͙̰̤̂̉̂̓̇̈̒͗̑͝͝d̸̪̼̘̳̻̭̞̙̖͇̣́̈́̿̐͌̀̐͘̚ ̵̨̝͈̱̳͇̋̐͐̒̈͋̈͘͘g̵̢̩͓̦̜͉͍͖̖͉̪̹̦͓̑͊͝į̷̳̘̘͚͆̈́̋̈́̿͊͊̽̓̀̚͠͝ŗ̴̠̝̺̦̟̼͈̤̤͗͋͠l̷̡̧̜̱̖̼̟̙͇̤͔̘̤̦̅͌̃͗̈͐͌̊̎̔͂͝.̶̡̛̟̝̼͌̈́̅̓͌̓͆̃̌͛̂̄̎͘ ̸͓͚̘͍͚̭̙̮̘̓̇͌̃̊͜͝C̸̫͂̐͒͆̌̈́̆͐̏̔̓̊̿͘͘ǫ̴̛̯̪̳̰͕͖͙̗̦̝̂́̇͑͋͘m̴̡̛̞̯̟̪̤̣̟̮̯̜̽̾͗̿͜ͅě̴͕͙͇̖͔̘̘͓̙̻̱̭͉̝͑̈́̆̚͠,̷̻̖̪̼͎̱͉͖̟̒́̀̈́͗̋͜ ̸̛̰̮̻̟̥̙͕̩̰̏́͌̈̀͗̒͌͗b̶̘̮̺͙̰͕̯͇̞̪̪̠̆̓̈́̕͠e̶̩̣̲̻̦̯͔̖̘̝̖͕̭̓̀̂̔̍̍̿̋̎̀̕͝f̶͙͖͓̃́̕ŏ̶̮̯̟̘͔̤͌̐r̵̡̨̮̳͍̹͚̦͙̦̥̬̺̾̋̈̔̌ę̶̣̝̰͖̜͋̈́́ ̴̢̩̜̦̞͖̣͙̩̣̟̂̓t̵̢̢̧̛̹͍̳̥̤̺͉̽̎͋̽͑̈́͆͗͠h̵̜͓̓ì̶͎̫̩͕͋͑͛́͗́̈́͂̽̂͆̐̚͝n̷̨͇̩͖͍̑̓͋̃̍͛͊͑g̸̞͇̖͔̬̺̜͋͂́̄̑͒̈́̊͋̉s̷̼̗̼͓̖̯̖̞̈́̓͆̋͘͜ ̶̨̹͚̫͕͓̦͎͖̞̤͍́̇́̓̃͋̅͋͋̈́̊̌̌̋͠w̸͓̱̤̹̳̏̌ͅì̷̢̹̭͚̮̥̺̼̰̠̅̈̓͋t̵̜̯̟̜̩̠̠̤̳͉̓͒̈̂̾̄͗͑̉̒̓̑̊͝ḧ̸̨̧̜͔̦̯̣̟͈̹̞̬̯̈́̿̓̍́͐̃̕͠ ̷̡͔̪̞̪͉̩̫̟̻̫͙̠͆̇͋̇͒͊͂́̾̾̎̚b̷̼͊̾̾͋̚ī̶̛͓̳̘͚͎̯̑̒̍̀͠g̷̝̥͌̓g̶̟̈́͋̔̊͘͝ę̷̛̛͓̼̙̞̱̳͎͎̭̲͇̹̘̀̄͆͐͐̈́̅̈͛̕͝r̸̨͈͉̟̳̓́͋̾ ̸̧̳̭̘͍͉̭̟̞̟̠̫̅̂̓͗͋͐͛͛̕͠t̸̨̻́̋̈͐̋̇͋̽̒͝e̸̯̦̯̖͇͈̭͕̿͒̐̋̔͐̇̉̐̆̈́͝͝ͅe̴̛̩̦͕̙̪̺͈̗̙̩̗͔͚̭̋̈́̈́̒͘ͅt̴̬̥̓̀͊̇̾̿͛̾̕h̸̙͖͓̞͙͚̥̼̠̠͗̈́̄͌̈́̈́͘͜ ̷̱̺̫͓̫͔͎̹͓̱̗̱̠̏́̍̿̆̌̂́̏̋͘ŝ̸̡̬͚̱̤̩̳̞͚̹̑͌ţ̵̧̭͇̳̪̤̜̗̗̱̏́́̃̚͜į̶̢̛͕̺̰͚͍̻̩̲͉́̈́̆̅̃̅̇̄͘r̵̡͖̥̲̫͉͓͍̜̳̘̲̱̘͚̃͑̽̌̀̀̃̅̌̄͠ ̸̡̧͈̝̤̣̱̞̪̯́ą̵̖̜̱͙̪̜̩́͋͊̈͗͛͠ẁ̷̰̰̰̻̝a̵̝̞̹͚̦̹̩͕̘̥̝̩̅̀ͅk̷̨̥͚̫̭͚͎̠̗͔̺̦̰̾͝e̶̲̞̝͔͌̐͗̈̾͊͆̍͘̚͜,̵̡̛̭̝͙͙͙͎̭̳̎͌̐͑͗̋̉̕͝͠ ̷͐̈́̉̆͂͂̇̐͌̿̈́̄͋̚͘͜h̷̩͙̼̩̺̦̉̕m̵̻̞̤͉̳̪̬͓͚̓̈́̾͂̎͆̆̅̍̅͂m̸̟͍͎̒̑̍͑͑̽́̿͐̏̈̽͑̕̕?̵͙͖̤̫̳̟̩̜͎̖̩̽͝
[ The door opens wider of its own volition, the scent of fresh bread and rosemary wafting into the night. The Haggard glides aside, gesturing with a wide sweep of her arm. She abandons the broom, which continues to sweep on its own. ]