I Solemnly Swear That I am Up to No Good

Seated on a cushion in front of a fire place sat a dark haired woman. Her intense gaze focused on the deck of cards laid out in front of her. She appeared to be playing a round of solitaire. This was good as she would otherwise be reeking havoc on some floor or another.
Clover's current attire included a dark flannel set of pajama pants, a long sleeved hotel shirt, a quilt draped over her well-postured shoulders, and thick woolen socks. All she needed now was a mug of hot chocolate or tea. In other words it looked like she had recently rolled out of bed and hadn't bothered to switch into a proper outfit.
Unfortunately, the game was starting to lose its appeal after a few rounds. Oh how Clover cursed her attention span and her 'imprisonment' within the hotel. The games and services which the hotel had provided were only so fun for a few years.
Clover gave a sidelong glance at the cards in front of herself and then at the fire place. Biting her bottom lip, she looked around the lounge, her eyes spelling out trouble. After her little survey, the woman picked up a card and watched as it was set ablaze by her touch. She watched as the card burnt into nothing and as its remains were carried away on the lounge's drafts. Clover lit another card and held it flat between her index and middle fingers. After bringing it back to her wrist, she flung the burning paper at an oncoming patron.

A dark brown messy bun sat atop a girl's head. Lorelei was exhausted. The einharjar she selected today wasn't exactly a pacifist. There was a cut on her cheek and a bruise on her knee. It was quite obvious the girl was bored. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for something to do. She quietly whistled. Though she couldn't remember her, Lorelei inherited her mother's gift in music. Singing opera was one of her skills. In fact, she used to wonder if that was what her mother sounded like. Lorelei wore leggings, a fitted long sleeved white shirt, and a red leather jacket. On her feet were combat boots. She looked for a place to sit. Her eyes rested upon a chair by the fireplace. As she approached the seat, her sheath bounced against her thigh.

After literally burning through half a deck of cards, Clover picked up on what happened to be a pleasant whistling. She turned her torso so that she could pin point the source of the sweet sound. The young woman would have been somewhat pleasant had she been positively inclined towards the resident Valkyries. Her plump lips turned into a downwards scowl. With one hand cupping her mouth she bellowed at the brunette, "Drag any heroes into eternal damnation lately?"

Clover could have flung a flaming card at her but instead chose to whip a nearby pillow at the little song bird, hoping for it to strike her face and mess up her hair.. This indicated that she was in one of her more merciful moods, which was rare. Perhaps the she-demon picked up on the other's fatigue or maybe she was more tolerable because of the cookie she was able to swipe earlier.