Ghosts. She'd heard of them, in stories, yet she was never sure what to feel about them, and sometimes it seemed neither did the stories. People would run from them, sometimes they screamed or howled, but other times they were gentle, helpful, offering advice or reassurances, and after her first night being fully there in the castle, Cris felt that she liked the ghost. They made her hairs stand on end, but it was comforting, knowing she would never be alone.<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">“Hello...?”</span>she called out softly, but no answer came. But they had given her a chain for her dragon! With trembling fingers she held her new necklace, afraid it would break at the slightest tug. Reluctantly she let it go, tucking it under her shirt, patting her chest several times to make sure it was still there. For a brief moment of pure joy she thought it could have been the Angel who have her the necklace, but no, if it had been him, he would have shown himself, spoken to her in that mesmerizing voice of his...<br/><br/>Cris stumbles out of bed, finding a source of water to splash over her face, that woke her up well. Cris ran her fingers through her matted hair, clawing out tangles as she and Mina went to the kitchen. Beef? More meat? It may be scraps, but it was still a feast, and Cris stuffed her belly to bursting, eyeing the tumbling sands. After such a meal, she happily scrubbed the dishes until her  arms ached.<br/><br/>Fen had called her the Hellbitch. Cris was silent as the pair headed outside, to the courtyard, the warmth of the sun making her sleepy, lazy eyes slipping across the equipment. Combat training, that wasn't too bad-<br/><br/>Her heart skipped a beat when the screech of metal penetrated her ears. She half jumped, half snapped around to see....the angel? No, this was different, they way they stood, and the face, it was harsher, crueller. Cris felt herself shrink in the presence of such a mighty warrior, wearing armour that looked too heavy to even lift, who could cleave solid wood in a single blow. She watched the grass writhe and burn around the blade, it was a magic sword! Who was this woman? The Hellbitch.<br/><br/>The voice, it was not what she expected. She heard it, caught every words, trembling. She heard the judgement passed, realized this woman too knew her shame. She could only nod in response. She felt sick, she had eaten too much, her swollen stomach was slowing her, throat constricting until she felt like vomiting, breathing itself an effort. The earth seemed to shift under her feet and she swayed, a hand gripping the hilt of her shortsword, hoping its feel would comfort her, but her hand shook so violently the blade practically rattled in its scabbard. Armour to hold broken bones together? What about severed limbs? And...sizzling....<strong>sizling flesh!</strong>Cris tasted bile in the back of her mouth, and gagged. What was she suppose to do? There was nothing, she, the tiefling was right to be disappointed in her.<br/><br/>But this place was wonderful. She was well fed, she slept in a bed, had clothes upon her back, and other luxuries too, and kind people. She wanted to stay.<em>Oh Lord, please give me the wits to use my speed, and the willpower to persist....</em>Cris reached down for the leather armour, turning her back to pull it over herself. To live in paradise one had to pay a price, it was time for her to pay.