As the sun begins to sink below the Western horizon a woman covered from head to foot in a black cloak enters the town of Cork. Her gait is slow and methodical, each tiny step only just barely pushing forward the trailing hem of her robe so that she seems to glide slowly down the cobbled street. A thick hood falls midway down her temple casting a faint pall over her pale, greenish-blue eyes, which gaze downward as if studying each cobblestone intently before it is swallowed by the tattered and dirty folds of her skirt. The shrouded woman reaches the town center and stops, looking up for the first time and pausing to slowly draw in her surroundings.
Her gaze eventually fixes on the building that serves as Cork's temple and she resumes her deliberate pace towards its doors, which she eventually reaches and passes through. Once inside, she glances around as if searching for something or someone in particular. No one appears to be in immediate sight, so she speaks: "Hello?" her voice is soft and very feminine, its pitch together with her youthful face both suggesting that she is a young woman in or around no more than her twentieth Winter.
(RP) The Foreign Missionary
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