This is normal [OPEN, STEINER]

Time flowed so oddly in the outside world for someone who had existed in a state of temporal isolation for so long, but Zunza, well Zunza was getting used to it he supposed. Marching slowly through what some would view as a forest, but to Zunza seemed closer in bio diversity to a glen, or a glade, Zunza had been writing his memoirs, mostly letters addressed to his beloved Anna. It had been quite a few months in this realm since he had last seen her, and the pain of having to leave her behind still strung true through his heart at this very moment. The worst part was that he had feelings that he had yet to tell her about, love that he had yet to express in the way that a man does to a woman, but now, now he may very well never get the chance to do so. He supposed by getting himself banished into exile for disposing of the king, a lie that he had told to insure his beloved's safety, that he had saved her life from torment at the hands of those who would look for someone to focus their anger on. So maybe some part of him hoped that perhaps she had noticed his one act of compassion and had seen the quality of man that he was.

He didn't know if she thought of him, but he almost always thought of her in fact it was one of the few things that kept him going in these times of great tribulation. The other thing being the plethora of books that humanity had crafted over many thousands of years of existence, learning of human culture had become a hobby, and had filled the Sugiuran with intrigue upon his arrival in this realm. However, with war being about, and chaos being thrown around the world, Zunza had little time for educating himself on Human culture. In that same vein he found it hard to find a reason to join in on the fiasco that was this war. Coming from the Western Sugiuran Hierarchy, War was kind of the economy, and everything that he saw reminded him of the pointless conflicts that separated his people. Why did all disputes have to be settled with violence? Why not simply coexist?

He understood so very little about demons and their wants and needs that the idea of coexistence didn't seem like such a bad compromise, however he knew that his lack of knowledge on the subject was probably why things seemed so perplexing to him. He continued to walk, his letter to his loved one being written by two hovering disembodied hands made by psionic energy, one holding a book, and the other a quill. The hand with the quill wrote what he thought, it connected to his mind by the mystic arts, and he walked with purpose to what he hoped would be a stream to wash his clothes in. He had been living as a hermit since he had exited from the Sugiuran realm, deciding it better to try life outside on his own instead of relying on others. It had been a novel experience for the young man who had once lived in a mansion and then a palace, but it was indeed hard. Learning how to live had been a matter of reading the right books and finding the right places to set up shop, so to speak, and he had done quite well with that due to his photographic memory.

His attention was split as the sound of a cracking branch alerted him to the presence of something around him and the sound of a youth shouting filled his ears. He decided to, hesitantly of course, go check out what all of the noise was about, and began to walk in that direction, using his sacred weapon as a sort of walking stick. He decided on the way to hide the book and dispel the hands, there was no need to shock someone with something they had never seen before, and there was no reason to oust himself as an outsider. No, it would be better to pretend to be human to blend in, even if one who could sense energy could tell that he was different. So, he stumbled through the underbrush finally arriving at the place where a young man was kneeling, and holding his head in pain.

"Are you alright, young man?"

His accent would come out Germanic, it was the best he could do as speaking the language of the Earthlings was easy, but his Sugiuran way of speaking still simply spilled out. It was best to mask that with an accent and he had chosen Germanic as it had been closest to his dialect and tone. After all, his goal was not to stand out, and even these little facades he supposed would help.

The gentle scent of fresh roses would fill the air as the crimson cloaked figure would seem to just appear out of thin air, standing in front of the kneeling boy as he screamed out. The figure seemed not to notice the being that had just spoken, his words echoing softly in the suddenly silent forest.

Within the hood of the cloak was pure darkness, though golden locks of hair spilled forth as the figure knelt down as well. From the crook of her left arm she grabbed a woven reed basket, revealing her pale, translucent tone. It would be at this moment that the boy may notice that the figures whole form could be seen through, the being that had approached him standing behind it.

Suddenly the figure vanished. The ground showed no sign of disturbance where she had knelt. The smell of roses was quickly replaced with the scent of warm, freshly baked muffins that sat under a red silken cloth in the basket that had been in the figures arm. Inside the basket was a small sheet of papyrus with writing in smeared blood etched into it. "Gute Besserung"