Utterly Mad

Her name, had been Lydia Balsam. Her title in the historical sociaty had been "journeyman historian." Being imperfect, Lydia had been around for a long time. She had spent her first couple decades of imperfection in her body, but as time had gone on it became increasingly clear that she wouldn't have it forever. She made up for her rapidly deteriorating appearance by wearing masks with hoods, and donning rather modest long sleeved clothes with gloves. One day, as she went through her regular routine of examining artifacts and regularly cursing her own existence, her body had simply collapsed, leaving her standing at her work table unable to manipulate her tools. The associate who had come to check her reports had found her that way, staring down at herself. She remembered that his first remark had been, rather tactlessly, "Well... at least you won't be so unpleasant to be around anymore." It had taken some time after that, but eventually she learned to manipulate things by will, a practice she never mastered, and to alter her own appearance which she also never quiet mastered. For her own feelings on the matter, she liked that she didn't need her spectacles anymore and she didn't have to sleep, drink, or eat. Back in those days, as a historian, it was a blessing. Sort of. Now that there was no one around though, it was a curse. A curse of loneliness and a meaningless existence. Gulgatha had become dangerous to her as well. The streets where people had gone about their day to day business as she looked on unseen, had filled with demons and imps, eager to drink in her vital essence. She had hidden herself away, looking out through windows only to veiw the devastation wrought upon the city. They said that Gulgatha had started it's existence as a necropolis, the evidence of her spectral eyes suggested that it had returned to that ancient state.