It was just after sunset. Twilight was descending quickly. Darkness seemed so much faster in the winter. It devoured the light, and spread itself like a cancer. But Geneva had not been afraid of the dark in a long time, and so she walked through the north-eastern part of Phoenix Valley with ease and confidence. Her lime green eyes were wide as they scanned her surroundings, though. Although she was confident, she was also cautious and vigilant.
This part of the territory was so strange. It was called the Hill of Graves. The uneven slope of the ground meant that Geneva, in her Optime form, had to watch her step. Headstones marked the resting places of the forgotten. But she did not really find herself chilled by this place. Although it was macabre, it did not effect her aversely. Instead, it reminded her of a place of solitude.
She leaned her shoulder against a large effigy of an angel. The wings were cracked and splintered. Time had taken its toll on this place. But Geneva looked on in fascination. She had found a bit of time for respite, and so she found it here. She let her thoughts wander in whatever direction they wanted to go.