armory;

[She's got a few knives already-- thanks, Pond-kun-- but it can't hurt to arm herself, especially with so few of them left around. Rosalind takes her time wandering, examining each weapon carefully, before finally settling on a dagger, light but still incredibly sharp. She isn't so stupid as to try and feign stabbing the air, nothing like that, but she does sit down and examine the polishing materials.]

Here to collect a weapon?

art room;

[Though she's itching to head down to the library, Rosalind decides to spend part of her Sunday here. She's sketching something, her mouth pursed and her brow furrowed, and though it isn't necessarily a secret, nor is she itching to show anyone.]

Do you suppose this is meant to keep us docile?

[She doesn't glance up as she says it.]

A room like this, I mean, or the chess room. Even the alchemy room. I wonder if they put them here to try and soothe us from week to week.