<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: teal">Isra gazed up at the starry sky in confusion, her fists clenched in mild agitation. A single question ran through her mind as she struggled to find an answer. <span style="font-style: italic">'Why?'</span><br/><br/>Why was everything so strange this time?<br/>Everything about the night she was used to was absent tonight. The cold air used to bring a welcoming, calm sensation as it traveled throughout her weary veins. It soothed her angry blood. But as a breeze passed by, this time it sent a sensation of not peace, but instead hesitation. Something didn't feel right. The silence that usually granted her clearance of mind and helped her relax was instead eerie, and for once she wanted there to be some sort of noise in the distance. Cars, a child crying, even a fight down one of the alleys- she didn't care. It drove her to the brink of insanity, trying to figure out what it was the was disrupting her one time for freedom and slight joy every day. <br/><br/>She paused and slowly breathed in, releasing with it the pressure in her tightened hands. Then she closed her eyes in an attempt to clear her thoughts for a moment. <span style="font-style: italic">'Relax, Isra. It's just in your head. Everything is normal... just go to the Graveyard.'</span> She shook her head and returned her hands to her pockets, ignoring her previous concerns. There was nothing wrong. Nothing wrong at all. Her mind was just messing with her. At least, she hoped this was the case. <br/><br/>Her feet rounded yet another corner and could see the familiar turn up ahead where she would turn off-road and head down to the Graveyard fence. From there she could see it in her head. The black iron gates, the bench nearby which she used to climb over it, the endless arrays of headstones and monuments to the dead. And the one oak tree she usually sat below, whispering words to whatever spirit happened to be listening- if there were any. She didn't know whether or not ghosts were real. As far as she knew, they very likely could and did. But many would tell her they didn't exist. It wasn't a holy belief that one's spirit could be trapped after death. But Isra wasn't Christian nor Catholic, nor of any other religion. She made her own beliefs, and no one could tell her what to believe in. That much was certain.<br/><br/>But as she approached the upcoming turn, something stopped her dead in her tracks. From the shadows up ahead came a figure. And this figure wasn't just a random, drunken-moving figure she'd usually come across. This figure was tall- and it strode forward so confidently. As the figure came into view she could tell it was a male. But something seemed rather odd about this particular someone. Observation number one was his relatively young appearance, yet he had long moon-silver hair, perhaps even white- it was hard to tell. Hair dye, perhaps? Terribly done bleach? <br/>Observation number two as he had approached was his attitude. He definitely wasn't a druggy. His eyes were focused and he didn't move oddly. He also didn't seem to have a drug-altered personality, which usually made one seem out of it, either incredibly slow or insanely fast and crazed. She couldn't completely rule out alcohol, since the effects were less noticeable than drugs. But it didn't seem likely.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"Hello, Isra Catori..."</span> The stranger said in a soft tone. For a moment Isra didn't do a thing. She was too stunned to form a clear response. Her analyzing gaze stared him down, thoughts going quickly through her mind. What was up with this guy? He seemed to have a purpose for being here. And why was he dressed the way he was? Some weird cosplay attempt? But over everything else: How did this stranger know her name? Her eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion mixed with irritation. This guy unnerved her greatly. She didn't know what it was that threw her off, but she didn't like it. Without asking the question that ate at the back of her mind, she instead scowled at him, going to move around him and continue to the Graveyard.<br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"Goodbye, stranger."</span> Her tone was flat and clearly uninterested in conversation.</span></div>