Down iIn the cellar vault beneath the Avalon nightclub, far away from the press of dancing Mortals, the lights are low. Away from the press of the wealthy patrons and the nightclubs' bright lights it is much, much quieter.
A calmer atmosphere prevails in the low lit area which is now heady with the bright scent of fresh lemons.
Tiny Martha is moving between offices and chambers. Hoping to get to her Chamber before her meeting with the Bishop.
Her arms full of rolled up charts, maps and shiny corporate prospectus folders. Martha is meekly and sweetly attired in her usual English school uniform: a neat straw boater, a black blazer...a pair of scholarly spectacles are perched on the end of her nose, a long black gymslip shows her slim legs to mid calf...her ebony black hair is tied into log and neat twin tails, each tail is tied with a large red ribbon bow.
She wears a white kneesock on her flesh leg and a pair of carefully polished black Mary Jane shoes thanks to her C-Leg prosthesis. A crisp white blouse is obvious where the gymslip reveals it, as is her red necktie which is tucked neatly into her gymslip. A satchel slung over a shoulder, her cane held in the mix of charts and other paperwork she's gripping.
Limping badly, but trying to skip as she does so, Martha is clearly in something of a hurry.
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