the evil eye has done its work;

The complete disrespect in the young man’s thoughts was as baffling as it was hilarious. It wasn’t meant in direct malice, but rather the sullen indignity a child might show. He could consider most people he met to be little more than children in respect to his age, but where would be the fun in that? “Oh trust me, my friend, you wouldn’t wish to be in their company over mine, as convenient as that sounds,” He smiled cryptically, leading him to where he really ought to be, out of danger from the things hunting him.

He honestly hadn’t expected to run into Aleister tonight. How long had it been since they’d last crossed paths? Thirty years? Fifty? He’d normally know by plucking at the other’s memories, but Aleister’s poor memory was in a horrible tattered state, more than he’d ever seen it. He wondered if he had the time to mend it before they inevitably parted, as their type was wont to do. It’d be a shame to forget a night like tonight, in his humble opinion.

Aleister invited them inside with a wonderful show of hospitality, and he was content to keep his arm over the youth’s shoulder to keep him from doing something foolish. As Mordreaux’s gaze swept across the abandoned cabin, paying particular attention to the altar that bore resemblance to the one he passed by on the way here, all the while listening in on the youth’s frame of mind.

He couldn’t help but laugh as he overheard the lad’s bewilderment for his terrifying companions be smothered in favor of saving face to imaginary betters, as if that was what was important in a life or death situation. Mordreaux slipped his arm away in good humor, uncaring that his laugh outwardly sounded ill placed when all the lad said was his name.

He could practically feel Llyr’s disapproval at his back as he made his way towards the dilapidated altar. “It would be a pleasure, Uwe, had this been in different circumstances,” Llyr offered politely, his voice liltingly disconnected from his floating skull that housed his spirit. “This gentleman here is Aleister, and my rude master is Mordreaux.” Softer, he added, “You’ll be safe tonight, I promise.”

“Mm, how can you be so sure, Llyr?” Mordreaux teased, picking up a curious book from the altar, flipping through its dusty pages. “You surely heard Aleister – Blights he called them. A terrible thing indeed.”

His only reply was a sigh as Llyr declined playing games with him. Mordreaux hardly minded – he instead found something quite interesting amidst a crude drawing of one of those creatures outside.

“If you’ll but excuse me for a moment,” He said to both Aleister and Uwe, a pleasantly eager smile on his face as he stepped outside.

There was something fascinating in this book he was most eager to try.