Another early morning but Rona found herself more and more used to those. Waking with the dawn she left her bed and prepared for the day.

Fresh from the shower, her hand eased through the damp charcoal mane of her hair even as the ribbons were set back in place. Over the scars, hiding the memories she would rather forget.

There it was, her desk. She looked around with a faint furrow of brows as she settled in the chair behind it. So much had changed for the gypsy. Separating from Kusinage who had been her lifetime's sweetheart to now becoming Silver's secretary....Silver a Minister of all things, it seemed unbelieveable.

Though some of those changes offered a deeper ache then others. The low caw as Bey alighted on her shoulder and rubbed against her jaw brought a faint smile.

"Yana, ah know. Canne be focused on de past."

She looked around the office, yearning for something more bright and colorful to help brighten her mood. To keep the woman in high spirits to appreciate the other things in life that had come to make her revel in the simple pleasures in life.

The gypsy was a creature of nostalgia and magic. It would always be that way....but now it was another day.

A lopsided smile touched upon her lips in the sweet warmth of embers as she perched on the edge of the desk and lifted Ghostwood from behind it.

After all, it was still early and business at that hour was hardly booming. The fiddle was set beneath her jaw as Bey gave her room and the dawn was greeted by Ghostwood's serenade. It was if anything a fine way to start the office day.

So exposed. The raw awareness of it felt with every movement. If she had been standing their naked in the midst of the room she likely would feel more uncomfortable. But without the ribbons...it was painful to be so exposed.

She stumbled as a flash of a vision claimed her and near left her doubling over. Gasping out softly a wordless sound as she saw near those ghosts of the past.

The gargoyle who had once been the Dreamer's companion. The one that the gypsy had claimed as best friend and perhaps had been a promise of something more....if not for....life getting in the way....and then there was him.

They called him the Violent Messiah.

Keun.

She stumbled as the vision faded, a memory unfolding of the gypsy left in nothing but ribbons, sprawled out in the green grass her power pouring out in a dance of life to set the world aglow in a green smolder of power.

He had known everything. The Death and Life Magic that claimed her spirit and her soul.

She had loved him....had crossed the desert for him, had gone to free him if need be....to save him....and he was gone.

Just another phantom in her heart.

Trembling she picked up the paint brush again with shaky fingers as she began to paint once more.

She would speak nothing of this. Perhaps it was but a dream. Nothing more.