Umin sinks deeper into the folds of his rough mantle. Plucking up his cowl and pulling cloth over mouth and nose. 

Experience costly gleaned from a lifetime of larcenous expeditions, exhorting him to appear as small and unremarkable. To seek security in unobtrusiveness.

Pyna however, makes little effort to mask her decided strangeness, much to Umin’s unease. 

Singing ghostly as she drifts ahead soundlessly, with the disturbing grace of an unhomed spirit.

Passersby however, wrapped and bound up in their own concealing accoutrement, gingerly pay the pair little heed.