This large house was not hers and still she felt like a stranger within its walls even after all of the time she had spent there. Arya was healing and becoming more determined. Since the presence of the younger Hannibal had vanished, Mag was sure her debt to him to tend to the girl was void. But she couldn't leave the girl in such a state with no one to look after her. Erik's presence, too, was sparse.
She shifted down the dark hallway, unable to sleep or find peace. This was not her place, even though she figured that she and the girl were the only ones she felt as though she was intruding. It felt sacred, the ghosts here demanded solace and she had nothing to give to ease them.
Instead of worrying about it, Mag shuffled down the hallway with the fabric of her long skirt in her palms. A ghost in her own right. She was humming to herself as she moved which was custom. Mag opened her mouth and took a breath as she turned to stroll down a dark passageway, "Ghosts..." She sang, "Ghosts..." Her eyes flashed and she looked about, "When will you find your peace?" Her breath was soft and her song was light. Maybe she was searching, but for what she didn't know.