White. It was such a odd, colorless thing that everyone seemed to pray their hopes and dreams upon. It was also one of the few memories that was deadly attached to her river of strands within her tired mind. Strange, her mind felt so tired when she thought of that everlasting white. Quite funny how she preferred the darkness over that white room really. After all, the darkness was considered to be cruel and the essence of evil. Everyone described it so, like the dark intentions that rest within their hearts or to describe fear itself. Yet, in a way, the darkness was comforting to those who accepted it. Misjudged and unwanted, it wrapped itself around others in a warm embrace, shielding them from the view of danger. The White Room only seemed lonely... One could see clearly yet nothing was ever there. It felt cold, unwanted, and completely alone.

Yet perhaps it was her overthinking too much.

With a slow groan, her blue eyes slowly opened to find herself on beach. Lifting her face from the sand, the long silver haired woman pressed a gloved hand against her cheek.

Why was she here again? Well to be exact where was she? She didn't remember... Her eyes blinked slowly, showing brief darkness before opening once more. Gingerly, she brushed her left hand against her own face, the black leathery fabric feeling smooth against her tan skin. Her index finger brushed across the bridge of her nose, feeling the large scar that went from cheekbone to cheekbone. Silver strands tickling against her cheeks and over her blue eyes.

Scars.

Yes, they tainted her skin as if to show her misdeeds. To show that they are also apart of her heart. Unconsciously, her fingers moved downward to her scarred neck hiding within her black vest's long up tilt collar. To her revealed her chest, just above where the zipper rested. Her index finger gently ran across a particular scar, number 1050 was burnt in. She felt her dark blue shoulder cape flap with the wind as it clung to her left shoulder, kissing her bare arm. A silver pendant, that had a rather odd symbol, on her left shoulder, keeping the cape in place. Her hips shifted within the black shorts she wore, a silver high tech belt securely wrapped around it.

Her name? What was her name? That was quite the question, since she no longer knew who she was anymore. Perhaps she used to, yet no a days she doubted herself, doubted what was real and what was just a fabrication she had made up for protection. Her true name was lost, even now she could not have found the needed files to at least discover who she once was. Once, she was but the number she held upon her chest while another had been but a simple nickname. Throughout her memories, she held so many faces that she was unsure who she was anymore. In a way, she feared herself the most.

Standing up now, she took time to examining the world around her. It looked like a broken city, holding sadness with a strange aura. The skies colored a pretty jade color. Having no idea where she was, she spotted a place that seemed to be the best place to go. It was a sort of temple above the city, holding a sense of holiness among its large walls. She could almost swear that she could hear a gentle voice calling her.

Deciding it was her best shot, her footsteps walked along. Despite how quiet she walked her steps still seemed to make a gentle echo in the silent broken city. 

A name came to mind... What was it?

[i]Valhalla[/i]

Yes.. That is what this place was called. 

It took her sometime, but she made it up the steps. The stranger slowly wandering through the looming doorway, entering a hallway. Slowly, she continued, her footsteps making gentle echoes against the ruined walls. It was then she came to a large room, where a throne stood before her in front of a large statue of a goddess. 

Opening her mouth slightly, she gazed upon the statue, as if it was singing to her. Calling her... For what purpose?