Unlike Shell, she did not keep him from trying to sit up. She seemed more intent on finishing the page she was writing, though her attetions were every where. On him, the book, the fly on the wall, the vine outside in the gutters as it slowly grew toward the sun. Her prescence was almost inhuman, but she did not seem cold, or distant, merely... it was a difficult thing to put to words.<br/><br/>He would barely remember the time she carried him, but now he would have time to really see her.<br/><br/>She was tall, with long, firm limbs, like that of a martial artist, face soft and round, peaceful, like a cherub. Long waves of dark as night hair hung down in every direction, straight and flowing like liquid opal. Her eyes were an odd color, only adding to her other worldly prescence, a dark red.<br/><br/>Her attire was equally strange, a long blood red dress with black, spidery runes, in a language not many could read. It was called a 'kimono' and, like martial arts, it was a mystery to the world, originating in the fiercely secretive Eastern Mists. Many 'knew' that the mysterious people of those lands held the arts to combat blade with hand, but it was incredibly rare that an actual martial artist was seen in the Western World. There was grace to every movement, even in his quick yet delicate writing. Her feet were bare, and she wore blood red glasses, rectangular and slim.<br/><br/>"I do not always find a reason for the things I do Milo" she smiled to him, flicking the ink pen once more and closing the book, then drawing another blank one to her lap to continue. There was dozens next to her.<br/><br/>"When you have lived to experience all I have, you come to trust your own premonitions. I felt I was needed at what would have been your grave... you know where you are, then?" it didn't feel like a question. She knew that the information had been revealed to him, that he was among the future Heroines, figures so wreathed in myth many doubted they existed outside of storybooks.<br/><br/>She knew he would call her out on not answering his question, as why he was brought here, but she had every intention of answering. She paused in her writing and set the pen down, now turning in her seat to speak with him. Her eyes were soft and caring, looking him over once, quickly. She was satisfied with his condition, and seemed pleased that he was sitting up, despite his weakness.<br/><br/>"Your nurse, Shell, told you of the Grey Ghost? That she was a real woman, who came to this very place?" while he knew the mythical protector of the area near his old home was indeed a real person, but it was important for him to know of her origins... and how similar they were to his own situation.