Must've been some godawful wallpaper

"Either that wallpaper goes, or I do."
-dying words of Oscar Wilde

((OOC: I'm Flo. I am the "nice" one of the group. I know that's a bland word, but it's basically true. I think I'm kind of boring sometimes, but what can ya do? I have my ditzy moments, but generally I am able to keep my blondenss in check. I like humor, and it tends to leak into my writing entries, no matter how I try to stop it. I guess I just can't take myself that seriously. I love laughing, and dancing, and music, and writing, and my little brother and sister, and my family, and my friends, and words, and a whole bunch of other things. But if I talk too much longer, I'd bore your pants off, so on with the story!))

Dear Diary,

It rained again today, and Myrtle was whiney as ever. Did you know she's given herself a new name? Myrtle the Unfortunate. No joke. Not only is she not old enough for an official title, but could she have come up with a more absurd name? I've told her it's just for now, and that she'll have to be re-christened when she comes of age, and do you know what she said? "All right, Vera. Would you like a daisy?" A daisy?! A DAISY! She's unbelievable, I tell you. Always complaining, she is, about how the broom is ill, and how tired she is, and how dirty her cloak is getting, and every little thing you can think of. I have to keep reminding myself of why I have to bear her as a burden: I promised Mother I'd train her in the art of witchcraft, and by gods, I'll do it if it kills me.

Today marks the first day of the fourth week of searching, and I'm beginning to lose hope. It seems as if we're always right on his tail, and then when we've about caught him, the accursed prince escapes! Last time, we even got so close as to be in the same inn as him, and right when we were about to ambush him in his room, he escaped out the window. There were no knotted bedsheets to speak of, so it at least gives me satisfaction to think that he took with him a few bruises, and perhaps even a broken limb or two. I must go, for the light grows dim, and Myrtle's goat ((OOC: Ruby, can I pleeeeaaase give you a goat?)) has eaten the last of the candles. Hopefully we will have made some headway tomorrow, and if not, well...we'll see what happens. We're on our way into a town called Sowburry. Perhaps they raise pigs there? Until tomorrow,

Vera the Vicious ((OOC: Vehement? Vicarious? Virile? Naw, jk, but what about the first two? I can't decide.))