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

"Ravel... who are you? Where did you come from?"
"I? Ravel am I, a maker and breaker of puzzles, a solver of what cannot be
solved, a mind raveling and unraveling until the threads of thought are tied
up like knots in a drunken man's hair." Ravel picked at another one of her
jagged gray hairs, wrapping it around her finger. "It is enough, enough it is."
"But what are you? Some have called you are a 'night hag,' whatever that
is."
"Night hag...?" Ravel gaves a ghastly smile, her yellowed teeth like needles.
"I am but a woman who has sorely... soarly? Soarly missed her beloved
creation. Some have named me crone, gray lady, Yaga sister, night hag -- but
MYSELF is my name, Ravel, Ravel who puzzles well, providing conundrums to
decipher and laying impossibilities low. But..."
"But...?"
"MANY things are said about we gray ladies. A race are we 'night hags,' but
an individual am I. Some call us evil of Old, stalkers of mortal dreams, the
kindly ones, ugly, hideous things whose homes lie in the dark places of
men's minds." Ravel's eyes narrowed to reddish sparks. "But that means
NOTHING to me... what would one such as YOU call one such as I, pretty
thing?"
"I find you beautiful, Ravel. Not perhaps to the eye, but your mind seems
sharp and vibrant," I lied.
"Tchhh! Do you think I care for such truths?! A hex on inner beauty, no
matter how long it may last the flesh. Think you ugly am I...?"
"Ravel, you are not ugly..."
"Yet ugly I need not be, pretty thing. My shape is but water to my will, and I
may re-weave its fibers to a more pleasing tapestry..." Ravel glanced at
Fall-from-Grace, then smiled and licked her lips. "Yes..."
"Ravel, what..."
Ravel had... melted into Fall-From-Grace, taking on her demeanor, her
features, her clothes... "Is this shape more pleasing?" Ravel smiled, her teeth
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