His face was stern, solemn. He was a white man with blue-grey eyes, high forehead and thick brows. But his rough cheeks were painted with shining silv...r lightning streaks and his forehead with a golden sun-burst symbol. He, the specter, stood unmoving, silent. His arm lifted and his hand extended to point at Graydon, then raised to an open-palm gesture of greeting.Graydon stood, unable to move, frozen by the face and the upraised hand. A long moment passed, the specter's eyes hinted some. Marnie stands up and yawns. She indelicately adjusts her tights, regretting for the nth time wearing them. If this were any ordinary day, a pair of jeans or perhaps some dockers would have worked fine. She would never call herself a tomboy, because she put care into her appearance, but she tended not to overly emphasize feminine side—perhaps it's her lack of curves, or a desire to be taken more "seriously" by her male colleagues. Today is different, though, so she went full out: black tights. More

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