It was going just about as well as could be expected...that is to say, not well. Emilie had never been patient; though the past ...six? years had passed with excruciating slowness she had always been in search of things to do. First it had been to learn all she could of this new life, unlife after death as it were. Then to become useful in her guild, and to find a place among the other warriors. She had learned arcanoi and how to cross the Shroud, though it was here, at her primary Fetter where the Shroud was weakest for her and she could manifest in the Skinlands most easily. She had other Fetters - ties to the Skinlands and the vapid French girl she had been in life, ties that kept her grounded and from Transcendence. But this one...

Her thumb traced a whorl on the table absently. "I am a wraith. A ghost." She smiled faintly. "I used to live here."