Slowly but surely, the blackness one first steps into begins to lighten. There's the sound of footsteps, the the view of a woman walking down a dirt path. The further she moves, the more things come into view as the darkness recedes away. The thick grass to the sides of the path, the weathered rock of low-sitting stone walls and the merging of her single dirt road into more.
And it's there at those crossroads that the blond pauses beneath a light pole that has now appeared, it's bulb crackling as it blinks out now and then. The surroundings soon become familiar to her; it's Doolin, with it's tired little homes and their darkened windows. Now she can make out the light of the stars overhead, flooding the midnight canopy of the sky, as well as the dots of fireflies restless in the night air.

To her left stands only one building illuminated. It's a ramshackle affair, worn with age and slowly breaking apart. Across the front, in worn gold paint, there's it's name - Bridge House Pub.
It's the only building though with lights brightly illuminating it and because of that, it gives off a warm and peaceful glow. Vistors may get the sense that it even gives off something of an otherworldly sense too.

For tonight though, the Pub is populated only with a few normal citizens. The blond seems almost surprised by this when she does make her way up the path, dropping a greeting to the lazy white cat outside before she makes her way into the pub itself.