Amethyst sunglasses perched upon a too-perfict nose, while a folding cane rested loosely betwixt bone-pale fingers. A haunt leaned against a lamppost, her colorless pallor and ghostly locks, a glowing beacon in the slice of yellow lamplight.
The scant kine that wandered through these barren streets knew better then to come close, that primal sense that kept humanity alive throughout the ages would keep them far, far away from the starving haunt waiting, for her cousin to arrive at the corner she'd specified so she could give a tour of the Necropolis to the Domain's newest Haunt.
She'd made Robert promise stay Below, but she doesn't know if he kept his word. The Cloak was a wonderful...and troublesome thing.
Waiting in a world of perpetual darkness the Morlock hums, her hollow voice is carried by the warm and gentle breath of Zephyrus...
...and dose nothing to entice the kine to draw closer.