The first floor is full of portraits who would gladly lend an ear if you wish to tell of your woe. Most would be even more glad to talk your ear off about themselves...



ooc: We do not have anyone to RP the portraits at this time so, feel free to make some up.

Abby noticed as she walked down the first floor corridor that when she stepped on her feet a certain way, the heels of her shoes would click. Click, click, click. That was nice and all, but clicking shoes were no companion, and she was quite alone at the moment. If only someone would talk-

"OY, you there! Mind turning your shoes off!?"

Erm. Who in the name of Merlin's purple pants was eliciting that rude, obnoxious tone of voice to her? Abby looked up and down the corridor. No people present. She frowned and faced a portrait to her right. It was of a very grim looking man carrying a crooked wand. She cocked her head at him. He looked none too happy at all.

"Yes, you! I'm talking to you," Merwyn the Malicious cried, brandishing his crooked wand at Abby. "Why did they have to move me? It was much quieter on the third floor!"

Abby straightened up and blinked, a little taken aback. Were all the portraits here like this?