It's a quiet corner of the underground, a small stone bridge over what seems like an endless dark void. It spans over a bottomless chasm.

The figure's gaunt appearance gives her the air of a scarecrow in a place so clean, she could very well be a stain, with matted hair and a dusty threadbare dress.

Dark rings mark their permanent exhaustion, beneath eyes piercing green, eerie in the dim halflight.

“I thought you might never make it this far, at the rate you were going.” she remarks drily.