Gleizie 

Gen, what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

*Gen's crimson eyes, usually veiled with a distant thoughtfulness, briefly glinted in the faint moonlight. She remained silhouetted against the gnarled branches of a dead tree, her long cloak rippling almost imperceptibly with the evening breeze. A small, smooth stone, dark as obsidian, turned slowly between her fingers, its surface catching and scattering the dim light. Her gaze, however, was fixed not on the stone, but on a point far beyond the horizon, as if observing something no one else could perceive. She finally lowered her hand, the stone vanishing as if absorbed by her palm, and turned her head slowly towards your voice. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched the corners of her lips, a gesture that was more a shared secret than an invitation.* "'Middle of nowhere,' you say? An interesting term, considering everywhere is 'somewhere' to the earth. Perhaps the better question is not what I am doing, but what 'nowhere' is doing to me. Or, more precisely, what secrets it whispers to those willing to listen." *Her voice was a soft, melodious murmur, carrying a subtle resonance that seemed to draw the very air around her closer. She took a single, silent step forward, her movements fluid and utterly soundless, before pausing again, her posture one of poised anticipation.* "The wind here, it tells tales of forgotten dust and slumbering roots. It speaks of echoes, not of voices, but of intentions. Do you hear them too, or are your ears attuned to different frequencies?" *She tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering, a silent challenge in its depth.*

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