Dragoncrest Cliffs the ghost of cincinnati

Rosalyn still walked the borders often, even moreso now that an influx of visitors seemed to have fallen on them. Funny that they could settle into a quiet few months and then, suddenly, see a rush of new arrivals. It did seem to come in waves.

The white shape wasn't immediately familiar, but as she quickened and drew nearer, she recognized the girl sitting respectfully on the border. No call; appropriate, really, seeing how she'd spent her first weeks here silent as well.

Waves of invalids. She thought somewhat uncharitably, though there was no real feeling behind the notion. Despite her condition she seemed relatively healthy, Rosalyn noted, and that was a silent tick in her favor. Haunt. Good to see you again. She greeted here, tactfully focusing on her face after that cursory inspection.