[The Skull is, annoyingly, not entirely incorrect in its assessment. Something is very, very wrong. There isn't a single ghost lamp to be seen, nor any channels of water cut across the roughly cobbled and dirt roadways. She hasn't even seen any iron wards. And here, as dusk is beginning to fall and the light is beginning to fail, she is becoming more and more certain what that strange, empty sensation in her chest is. It's as if her talent has all evaporated, swallowed up in the same event that has landed her here.

That the horrible spirit is even half right - no, actually, she is not giving up that easily no matter what he'd prefer - is irritating enough to inspire her to straighten up out of the shadow of the statue.]

If that's the case, [--and she's certain it is--] I hope those feet of yours are as tough as they look. It's high time we did a proper bit of investigation and for once I won't be carrying you around as we do it. Not while you have two perfectly good legs to walk around on.

[She moves to check that the rapier at her hip is secure and only has to flounder around with the short cloak about her shoulders a little bit in the process.]