(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

mental fullness they left with me.
And that's when I bumped into her.
She was a comely, middle-aged woman, wandering about dreamily and
absent-mindedly chewing on her thumbnail; her eyes seemed focused on
nothing in particular. Elegant, yet disheveled finery dangled over her body as
if it had been pulled on haphazardly, and her hair was slightly tussled.
I rubbed my eyes to shake the last vestiges of the mild grogginess of the
sensations, "Greetings..."
"Hm?" She took her thumb from her mouth, smoothing back a strand of hair
that had fallen in front of her eyes. She seemed otherwise apathetic.
"Are you, by chance, Lady Thorncombe?"
Her eyes widened momentarily, and then she looked away. "No. No, I am
not, sir."
"Who are you, then, if I may ask?"
She smiled nervously. "No one of consequence, I assure you."
"Might I have your name?"
"Oh... I'm, eh... Adhana?" she fumbled.
"You're a terrible liar, you know."
Lady Thorncombe sneered. "And you're a horribly scarred ruin of a man,
more a corpse given some sad semblance of life than anything else. Now go
away."
I stepped in front of her before she could leave, and she looked up at me,
both irritated and scandalized that I would stand in her way. "Wait... I had
hoped to receive training in the magical arts."
"I shall dash your hopes to pieces, then. I no longer wish to teach magic...
now go, leave me in peace."
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