She looks into the dusty mirror, her dark eyes so full of hate it would suck her up through that whirpool that is her soul. A thin smile creeps across her smudged complexion, her eyes seeming to contemplate something unreadable in everything but that smile. Her eyes focus on a particularily dark smear of dirt and grime on the tip of her chin, and she frowns, displeasure marring her pale features. The mirror begins to whisper to her, sweet nothings and everythings for her ears alone. Her smile returns, both vile and sweet, and she hums to herself in tune with the mirrors whisperings. A slight chuckle escapes her parted lips, and the men around her jump unexpectedly. They shift from one foot to the other trying to dispel the cold that has leaked through their metal armor, it's deathly grip telling of ghosts haunting the night. She grunts at the men and they remove the mirror from the mount it has hung from for a thousand years, her still humming to a tune they cannot hear.