<span style="font-family: 'Tahoma'"><span style="font-size: 10px">If she hadn’t danced cadavers for an audience for the better part of a decade, she would have reeled from her seat in abject horror.<br/>
<br/>
Alas, Ziggy had seen all manner of monster.<br/>
<br/>
Big and small, from inside and out. Whole cities swallowed under the weight of paranormal dread, their respective worlds corrupted to their very core by cosmic malignancy. There were infinite possibilities and Ziggy had seen dozens of them, her days as a wayfarer almost as prolific as those she experienced as a necromancer. For every anomaly, a story. For every hound of hell, a leash.<br/>
<br/>
Ziggy expelled a dark plume of smoke, lessening the air quality with the same disregard she felt for much of Valesport. The shadowed eye, the silver serpent, and the traveler of Agamemnon’s blood all walk into a bar.<br/>
<br/>
Ouch.<br/>
<br/>
The bartender seemed oblivious to the show of teeth. Ziggy counted the other woman lucky, having never been forced to see those sorts of terrible sights. The world wasn’t so kind to the magically inclined, however, and her concern for Errol proved secondary to her piqued interest for the spectral waif. Not for the stomach maw, though. Instead, rather openly, she admitted between them, “I don’t know.”<br/>
<br/>
And she didn’t know, really. There were any number of reasons why something like the nameless ghost might continue to plague existence. A curse, a hex, a challenge unmet. For all she knew, a jilted lover was to blame.<br/>
<br/>
Take that, fucker. Should’ve paid your alimony.<br/>
<br/>
Lips split into a mischievous grin only to be hidden behind her diet coke can.<br/>
<br/>
“At this point, what do <i>you</i> think is the issue? Who’d wanna nail you down to corporeal livin’?”</span></span><br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="7082" data-username="@Lurktastic" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/7082/">@Lurktastic</a>