The sound of stone debris grinding under the step of her boot heels as she slowly approached the gate to the city.  Seemed all the more loud in the foreboding silence that gripped the place.<br/><br/>Her purple hue coat drawn tightly close.  Keeping the swirling gusts of wind out, that whipped her brunette hair around.  Her hair moving in a wild disposition, like how she felt on the inside, gripped at the edge.<br/><br/>She could slip through the gate, the magic that once held.  Now drawn to the ages, lost in time.  As the city is lost in the madness of its past and future.<br/><br/>However,  Amora would pause, a shiver run through her. A soft moan escapes as she bites down on her bottom lip.  If any observe the see a subtle shift of her feet.  But remaining unseen under long over coat, the drawing and clutching of her thighs.  As the moment came and then would ease.  It was constant and in some moments it flared in intensity.  But it is not what held her in place.<br/><br/>No it was the old hag, she had known.  Her fellow witch had known the truth.  Without even having to ask, when just one look at her.<br/><br/><br/>