Faolin can tell her about the Inferni policies and all that! (no wolves allowed, etc.) This is kind of sloppy, eh.
A chilling mist fell over the beach, producing a soft 'hiss' as it struck the Earth's surface. The distant horizon was blurred by fog and precipitation, so it appeared as if the gray water stretched on for eternity. Insubstantial waves lapped at the sand, for there was no wind to produce a decent breaker. The beach itself was bland and colorless, its sun-bleached surface stained dark with the falling snow.
Upon the edge of this beach sat a dark figure, arms and legs crossed and pulled close to its body, chin tucked to the chest. A black bookbag rested behind the gray woman, covered by random foliage. Lith, as she was, did not mind the snow as light as it fell. Though melting swiftly as it came in contact with the sand, the precipitation clung desperately to the clusters of driftwood, turning the colorless matter slowly white. The scene was strangely peaceful, especially to be one taking place on a beach named Hell's Coast. Who knew what hell was like, anyway? The gray woman doubted it was a beach. If hell was anything, she figured it would probably be something like a blacksmith's furnace, with soot and fire and scorching metal. Kind of like Morgoth's lair. Lith sighed.
Reaching behind her, into her bag, the stargazer rummaged around before producing a thick sheet of paper, rolled up and bound with a rubber band, and a pen. It was a map she had started to create the night of her acceptance, to better understand her new home. Using the tip of the pen, Lith searched for a certain point on the sketchy map; stopping after a moment, the woman circled a cluster of trees on the sheet, the red ink sharp in contrast to the white of the paper. Beside the circle, she jotted the word 'house' and underlined it twice with a flourish. Keeping tabs, as always.
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