set the table [mod]

[?Lyrical]

Phoebe Newton was hungry.

She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten a proper meal. Probably a few years ago, give or take a couple of months. Now that her parents were barely able to live off the land, the soon-to-be researcher's main goal was set food on her parents' table (not that they had one) and maybe even send along enough money so they could buy a little house. As long as they didn't spend all of it on ramen noodles first.

Attempting to put her mind off of banquets and huge dinners, the girl adjusted the (real!) sprigs laden with berries in her blond, almost white, hair and observed the crumpled map in her hands, which she had been lucky enough to pick off of the street. Tracing her pointer finger over the faded, colored lines, she followed the directions and didn't look up from her paper and her thoughts until she bumped into a door.

Fixing the fallen sprigs of berries back onto her hair and rubbing her head, careful as so not to displace the natural accessories again, Phoebe checked the map to see if she was in the right place and she didn't just bump into some random person's home. Frowning, her attention jumped from the paper in her hands to the building in front of her. Finally satisfied that she was in the right place, the girl didn't even bother to take a deep breath before knocking the door. Pausing for a moment, the soon-to-be researcher waited for someone to respond for a quick moment before twisting the doorknob and entering anyways.

Memories of Decima Town, which used to be her beloved home until the first wave of the accursed Scourge hit, washed into her mind again. Shoving away the depressing thoughts, Phoebe perkily called out, "Hey! Professor Cypress in?"

[nette]

unfortunately, the professor is not in. mrs. sybil drifts out from a back room, carrying a stack of papers that seem to be of importance. she places them on the professor's desk before glancing at phoebe.

"the professor is not in. he will not be back for a while." a different stack of papers and a briefcase floats out from the same room that the psychic-type had appeared from. one of the papers stop in front of the gothitelle, who avoids looking at the girl in front of her for the most part. "your name, please?"

?Lyrical