*You walk toward a red brick victorian house that look like it had seen better days. A nicely sized porch with a wooden swing is beckoning to you to come closer. You walk up onto the porch and see a small brass plaque reading: "Astoria Lodging House." You slowly push open the old wooden door and enter the lobby. On your right is a small, messy desk crammed into the corner and directly next to it is a door way to a warm and welcoming kitchen. To your left is a large archway that opens to a parlor. Inside is a fireplace with old and dirty marble paneling and a collection of mismatched red, blue, and green velvet furniture and a battered baby grand piano. Some soul has draped a red knitted blanket with indigo fringe on the green couch. There are two windows looking out onto the porch behind you and one directly above a red fainting couch. Directly in front of you is a closed set of two side by side wooden doors and a wooden staircase with a tarnished brass railing leading up the stairs. Just as you have convinced yourself that this is an insane assylum, a girl of about seventeen walks down the stairs-- her skirt held up like a noble-lady-- and smiles at you*

~*~