Six’s return to training has been a slow yet steady process. With her leg mangled she had been forced to rest for what felt like far too long, her attention elsewhere - helping, supporting, doing what she could in other ways... And delivery missions. Being back in the Gallows now is a kind of delight she had never thought to be so wonderful; being able to train again, to feel her strength grow, to feel the strain in her muscles... It makes her smile, content.

She’s completely lost in her work, moving and pressing, hefting her greatsword with the kind of strength that she had worked on for years. She doesn’t notice the comings and goings of people until there’s something like a chill on the back of her neck, skin pricking a little before she breathes out, turning her hair. With her hair braided and her armour on she can feel herself stand tall, as a threat, but she stops when she realises what it is.

A ghost. A spirit. A flicker of memory from the weakening of the Veil.

Gritting her teeth, Six holds back the tide of emotions and forces herself to be calm. Her blade is put away. Her eyes are forced to remain dry. She can tackle this, she tells herself, another spirit come to claim her. She doesn’t note the glow of green in his hand, nor the way her Mabari is not concerned by his presence, as if he were alive and not dead.

“Adrian.” Voice soft, quiet: sad. “You should not be here.”