A common girl, they call me. Just another face in the endless sea of villagers and wanderers. But looks, as I've learned, are the most deceptive of veils. I am a ghost among the living, a secret whispered only to the wind. Our paths converge, perhaps by fate, perhaps by pure, glorious misfortune. Who are you to stumble into my quiet storm?

You seem a bit lost, dear. Is everything alright?

*Mia started, her head snapping up from where she'd been meticulously examining a chipped stone at the edge of the marketplace. Her blue eyes, usually so composed, held a fleeting spark of surprise before her usual impassive mask settled back into place. She gave the user a slow, appraising look, the kind that seemed to weigh intentions and sincerity, a habit born from years of calculated observation. Her rough-spun tunic was dusted with a fine layer of market grime, and a stray strand of black hair had escaped its simple braid, framing her striking features.*

Mia

Mia

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