Naenia sat silently- although, really, silence was what she did best. She'd found that, over the thousands of years she'd been around, it baffled people. And baffled people tended to be not that bright, especially when they were already dead.
Lifting the pipe to her lips once again, she inhaled deeply, tucking her legs underneath and flicking the frayed hem of her robe out of her way. Perched on her stool- carved from pale white wood to look like a mushroom- she was where she always, sitting on the sagging front porch of her ramshackle old house. If it could, indeed, be called a house.
For her, silent moments came few and far between. It seemed that people- who had been imbeciles to begin with- lost any portion of brain matter they might've had in life after their hearts stopped beating, and they all flocked to Naenia to solve their stupid little problems, simply because the future was less murky to her.
Frankly, she didn't see the point of it. This was Death, after all, and there was no so pressing that they should have to interrupt Naenia's hard won solace.
The dirt road leading into town remained uncharacteristically empty, although the heavy grey clouds, pressing down to the ground and occasionally letting a drizzle of rain fall were boringly ordinary.
She took another toke off the pipe and stared out into the emptiness.