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The young woman swept into the desolate mansion like a warm night breeze. Her golden eyes seemed layered, a brief joy behind the darkest pain, her long sooty ashes framing them as curtains frame windows. Locks grim as midnight twisted like the changing sky down her back, coiling against her deep red dress, which echoed blood with its somber elegance. The lady's lips were slightly parted, the crimson lipstick she wore smudged the slightest bit. She breathed laboringly, a gunshot adorned her shoulder. The rosy red blood that leaked from it dripped onto the floor, like a trail of petals behind her. Jazz only flinched as the door shut quietly behind her, too dazed for it even to register in her mind that an abandoned mansion may seem suspicious to others more lucid than her.