Sweet Nothing [Open]

Ghost glided back through the caverns, her claws ticking ever so daintily upon the rough stone. Her languid and loose fur absorbed the water upon the floor like a sponge, drenching the bottom half of her legs within the seconds. She did not, for the most part, enjoy water. It ruined the languid, fluid movement of her fur. As much as she was loathe to admit it, it had become a bit of a compulsive disorder to keep her appearance absolutely flawless. She groomed while listening to the voices drone on and on inside the back of her head. She did it instinctively now, habitually and it was difficult to resist the urge as she maneuvered through the caves. She still had enough of her mind to realize that even if she did as such, the moisture and the filth would only return, she needed to be out of the caverns first. She almost jumped as Octavian pulled up alongside her, she had almost forgotten he was here. It was the fatal downside to her disorder. She was forever lost inside of her mind, she often lost sight of reality. She feared one day some cruel soul would chance upon her and end her life before she even realized they were there.

"I have... little to no idea where the wolves of Valhalla have scattered too. The eruption scattered the pack to the winds. I.... I wandered, I stumbled upon these caverns quite by chance... it's what ghosts typically do." She smiled a bit at her own pun. "We wander until we find something of interest and then the world forgets us again, and we wait for the next new thing." As much as she was describing the legend of the typical Ghost, she was very much describing her own self. No one had really known of her in Valhalla, she had been a passing face, a stranger with the same scent. She was forgotten to everyone it seemed, except Octavian.