Hysteria has always been sort of quiet. That's one of the small habits that she learned from being alone all the time. Sometimes she doesn't even think she remembers Common all that well, but then she thinks back and notices that's the language her thoughts came in.

She also doesn't know many proper etiquette of her day and age. The books that she had read when her mom was still teaching her must have been centuries of age now. She felt distant when she realised this; let alone the fact that she also has not seen many people in the middle of the woods.

The book she subconsciously is one of her own. Poems she wrote to fill the time and silence around her. Not that she had many people to read them to anyway.

After setting down the book, Hysteria walked to the kitchen to get some breakfast for her. She settled on eggs and a glass of water. After the eventful time she's had the past weekend, she decided that it would suit her well. Setting her plate on the coffee table in the living room and sitting down in her chair, Hysteria decided to read one of her poems. Probably not one of her morose scriptures, however. They could put you in a bad mood all day long if you read enough of them. She settled for The Rainy Day.

Picking up her fork and shovelling her eggs onto it and into her mouth she started reading.

If the eyes were to ever be the sky,

Then the sky has cried more than me this year.

The water falling isn't sad though.

It is tears of life and rebirth and joy all given to you from

The shelter of your tea and books in a large library

Where no one talks to you and you can slip away into your finest fantasies.

That is the life the world sees when it cries,

Hoping,

Dreaming,

Praying

You'll be there with the great dreamers as their memories and words

Drip off their tongues like honey in the great mixing bowl of life and death.

Now finished with her eggs and water, she decided to do some inventory in her kitchen and storage room. But of course, before she could do anything of that sort she settled on doing the dishes first.

After the dishes were done, she swept room to room gazing and scouring all the inventory her 'little' cottage held. From herbs and other plants to ingredients for spells, she was set. From poultry to wood, however, she needed to go out and harvest some so she could get started on her next adventure without all of those troubles later.

Grabbing her over-shoulder endless bag, a flask of water, some berries, and her axe, she set out into the late morning with a plan.