Silver Creek Face your wall

Ahaha, sorry. It’s what popped into my head as soon as I saw your character.

The preta spoke, her voice rough, ragged, raspy. She spat - more evidence of an apparent illness. Enso’s face remained passive, neutral. There was no disgust. Instead, he found compassion welling in his chest: what circumstances had caused this ghost such a fate?

It took the man a breath to discern the question spoken through an unfamiliar accent, as the common tongue appeared to be a second language for both of them.

“Ah, I am a spiritual wanderer, madam,” he explained gently, “I go where life takes me. Enso desu. My name is Enso.”

He lowered himself into a respectful bow once more.

“What do you call yourself?”