A flicker of movement, like a shadow in the night; silent, black... A tiny whisper of sound, the soft-soled black half-boots; hand made by their wearer; mark the passing figure, wraith-like, silent, blacker than the night itself, along the cobbled way. The nocturnal breeze stirring and billowing the soft damask fabric of the midnight coloured robes in a sinuous dance which lent an air of of danger to the aura of mystery and otherworldly stillness about the figure. It seemed as if this dark being were more... or less than human, a shadow detached from the fabric of the night itself, cloaked and coweled as it was, not even the glitter of an eye could be discerned in the light of the low hung harvest moon... Though few are the people abroad at that hour of the night, each of those the figure passed was somehow compelled to turn and watch as it moved silently out of sight, their thoughts loud in the silence of the night air to the black shrouded being... fear, awe, disbelief... all screaming louder than words, and falling on seemingly deaf ears...Satanic... demon...witch...ghost... the names and accusations meaningless to their hearer.

The shadow-figure moves on; turning the corner onto another, darker street, and stops before a recessed doorway... Slowly, pale hands reach up to grasp the edges of the concealing hood, and lower it to reveal a pale face, and hair so deep a black as to appear blue where the silver beams of the harvest moon should dare to shine. The features of the face have a definite feminine cast, delicate and small, so pale as to seem cast in marble, bleached as it was of all colour 'neath the moon's light.

To some, the face holds much beauty, to others, it is cold, to it's owner, it's only merit is that it is hers alone...The chaos of thought and emotion within, masked by the air of stillness and calm without...

Slowly, a pale, delicate hand reaches forth to lift the latch and push open the heavy, iron-bound oaken door, allowing the dim light, and buzzing voices to intrude briefly on the night...

In the space of a breath, the woman dissapears within, and the door once again holds the night at bay.
In silence, she makes her way to her shadowed corner, carved as it is from the center of a wall, more a niche, a nook, really, but there never the less, and always reserved for her...

With a small part of her consciouness, she responds automatically to the queries and greeting directed her way by the faceless voices inhabiting the room. Her gaze shifts from being to being, seeking faces where there are none, responding in her quiet voice, hello...no, i'm quite alright... meaningless, automatic responses to meaningless questions...

Starving wraiths, they are", she thinks in the chaos of her mind"looking to feed off the pain in my soul... hummmmm... i think not tonight..."

Quietly, she gathers her robes about her, and takes her customary seat on the cold marble floor. Gathering her thoughts and emotions around her , she organizes them lilke a shield... yes, tonight her efforts are sucessful... tonight, her emotions will not betray her weakness, as they have so often in the past done...

It is here, in this dark, crowded room, that she feels most comfortable... where others like her gather, who have been feared and shunned for their "differentness", their "apartness" from the mindless puppets of society... though even here, few enough of them truely understand her...

Yet, it isn't important to her that she be understood, only that she be heard... understanding would come later, with time and thought.

And there she sits, watching the faceless people sometimes, responding automatically to voices directed her way, occasionally interjecting comments drawn from her thoughts, an island of stillness in an everchanging crowd, waiting...

Suddenly, one such as she appears, materializing out of the crowd... "Hello..." he says as he draws near... "Hello..." she responds, knowing, without knowing that here is one who truely understands.

Slowly, she raises her gaze from the cracked patterns of the cold marble floor, to behold another figure, radiating the same otherworldly stillness as she, and he too, is cloaked in blackest shadow, the style of dress different, yet the feel is the same...

"Hello..." she says again, voicing his name in greeting... It is then that her thoughtsare loosed to be spoken, and for a time all too brief, they converse, and are heard by all, yet understood fully only each to the other...almosta melding of minds over the raucous clammor of the room...

And suddenly, he is gone, as quickly and completely as he'd arrived, leaving her once again to answer automatically, the voices in the room, as she traces patterns in the cracked marble flooring and chases her thoughts in endless circles until they make sense...

After a time, she tires of the endless murmur of the faceless voices, meaningless sound, and quits the chamber as unnoticed as when she arrived...

Outside - the air has cooled, and the moon has set... a carpet of glistening dew on every surface... the heavy nocturnal air carrying loud in the stillness the whisper-swish marking her footfalls as she passes, once again covered head to toe, a part of the night itself...Slowly, she walks down the cobbled street, blending with the darkness and is gone... Seeming to have dissapeared, so well did the deep color of her rainment blend with the darkness of the night around her. As she walked down the empty street her soft foot-falls echoing in the stillness, she reflected on other nights, and other conversations...Shespent quite a bit of time in there, in that dark room, surrounded by the babbling facless voices of people she knew almost beyyer than she knew herself...

It was odd, she thought, that she knew them by the sound and feel of their voices, rather than the appearance of their faces...Yet, perhaps it was better this way, easier to know someone, to share with them, if one did not have to see and be seen...