There stood Xister, proud as ever. With her hands on her hips while staring off into space, she held an extremely large cigarette in her mouth, one almost as tall as one of her legs. Somehow she held the cancer stick in her mouth without any issue while a large cloud of grey smoke rises into the atmosphere. It was a miracle someone like her hasn’t died of lung cancer yet. Or set something on fire.

Not like much was happening around her. She was standing outside the ruins of an old stone building. Most likely some sort of church that had succumb to time, moss and all sort of plants taking over the now forested area and grey stone bricks. The only thing that seemed to be intact was the well-kept piano in the middle of the rubble.