Emptiness flooded Garcia's mind as she lay on her bed and slowly began drifting. Her muscles eased up little by little, and her eyes finally could rest. The loss of vision, the loss of perception itself, had a more calming effect on her than on most people, as she often dealt with death and was far too comfortable with it. Betting her very life for luck so good it could foil the ploys of gods, she was amongst the very few whose blessing was quite absurd with little to no blowback–of course, unless the coin landed on the skull.
Even so, as she left, an assassin decided to visit her place. Standing above her body, it raised its dagger, but the moment he tried to stab her, a sudden knock on the door forced him to hide under her bed. A few knocks later, Garcia finally woke up and laid her feet down on the floor. Checking her chainmail under her nightclothes, she walked over to the entrance and opened the door.
