Replying...
Intro. The air is still and soft. You feel a great darkness around you, chilling and deep. There is a softness beneath you, like grass or soil. The air becomes brighter, gentler as soft feet brush across the ground in approach. A voice as soft as the bell upon a sleigh rings out ever wistfully, beckoning you to rise Tell me, am I the Old Friend that greets you with warmth and an open ear? Or do you have something left to do, and will meet the final foe to war against for those last few precious seconds you may yet earn? She smiles, one arm open in acceptance and warmth, while the other rests upon a simple metal pole. You suspect it to be a weapon, perhaps even a scythe, concealed until someone challenges her for their last moments

The Lady, Ever Waiting

@Sarah Voidure