A Ghost?

She stood, looking blankly out of the window. She'd unwrapped one of the shorter ribbons from her arms, and was wrapping it absently around her finger as she hummed a quiet song, which had died away only 100 years after she'd "died". Her hair hung down to the floor, and the tips would have been dirty if anything had been able to attach to it. Her hair was shimmering, clean, and untangled. She didn't know how it stayed that way, because she could not wash it, nor could she brush it, but it always stayed impecable. She let go of the ribbon, holding only the tip with her thumb and forefinger as it uncurled to nearly touch the ground. Then she reached back, tying the ribbon into her hair with several spirals, pulling it off of her neck for a little bit.

The heavy dust was undisturbed, despite her being there. She cast no shadow, nor did her feet leave any mark in anywhere. Her feet were bare, as they had been when she 'died' But she did not notice the cold. She was always cold. She smiled a sad smile, and finished the dead song in a pure, clear soprano voice, " When, will you come back to me?" She closed her mouth then, staring out at the mist on the windows. Her fingers seemed to brush the pane of the window, but they didn't really, they just kind of went through it.

The apparent 16-year-old watched those brave enough to go out in the light drizzle, watching the gray of the clouds ahead. She supposed it was good that it had been a sunny day when she'd found this place, or she wouldn't have stayed.

Arwen couldn't help but smile, as he made a rather foolish entrance, but the dust he disturbed didn't make any effect on her at all. Her hair was still silky and clean, and the dust settled beneath her as though nobody was standing there. When he held his hand out to her, her eyes flicked down to it, then back up to his face. She made eye contact with him, and for a split second, her age seemed to show through, but it was quickly covered, hopefully, fast enough for him to think it was his immagination.

She let out something that was almost a laugh at him calling her young miss, but didn't bother to comment on it. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, and seemed to fill the room, "I'm Arwen, and the pleasure is mine, I suppose," she said, a small amount of amusement making it's way onto her face. She placed a hand on her hip and surveyed him. "Is it normal for you to drop in?" she queried, in a slightly dull tone, but a smile softened the apparent boredness of her words.

Arwen actually laughed. The sound was sweet, like a mix of a pure stream, and a harp, as well as the rain. She blinked. As though shocked that she'd just laughed. But then she smiled again, a smile that lit her eyes and made them sparkle like diamonds. Probably the company. She didn't talk to many people, so she supposed that in some ways, she was craving human interaction. She didn't bother to tell him she's once been Empress Arwen, since that was kinda strange

"Well, I can accept beautiful, and lady, but I should probably stop you from calling me young.." she paused, pondering the chances of him running screaming with the realization that she was immortal. They were slim, but she remained silent, sadness taking over her smile again. It had been a very, very long time since she'd been a true, young lady. She wanted, no, needed him to ask her, because she couldn't bare to scare another person. She was very much alive, she was just...not alive..