How long had he been searching for? Months, he knew that much. It was starting to get to the point where he didn't know if he'd ever find his long lost hunter. He was sure he had searched everywhere he could, although the human world was a huge place.

Zanthvos sighed, walking slowly as he watched Micah skip in front of him, singing a little ditty she had learned at school that day. Ahh, the carefree days of scareling-hood, how he missed those. Or what he could remember of them. His memories were starting to return, and every so often he would recall something of his past much to the enjoyment of his family.

The most interesting one had been when he was approached by a hunter.

Being brought up as the oldest of a demon household usually meant that you had obligations to fill such as upholding the family's honour and carrying on their traditions. And as his father was not only a shrewd businessman but a well known demon of society it was expected he should follow suit. But being that special sort of rebellious young adult he scoffed at the idea, and turned his ambitions to music, ghouls (as well as boils), and other such fun activities. Ah, he could recall the argument that afternoon with his father, who demanded he stopped goofing around and made something of himself. His response was to kindly ask his father to butt out of his life and let him do what he wanted. He then stormed off and found himself in a lovely little bar (they made the best bloody marys), were a certain robed figure approached him with a choice. He could obtain power, but more then that, he could obtain freedom.

It was fricking hilarious now that he thought about it. He had been so stupid to think he would escape his fathers influence, as well as get his old man to shut up about 'making something of himself', well, he certainly had; he escaped one prison only to end up in another, fighting to destroy his own kind. But in hindsight it hadn't been so bad, it had it's fun moments, mostly at Jason's expense.

Alas, the tables had turned now. Everything had gone haywire, but at the very least he was restored to his former glory, if one could call it that. Though it begged the question as to what he would do now. Perhaps he should just forget about everything, get some sort of job, play some gigs on the side...

A tug on his coat pulled him back to reality. "Yes Micah?"

"What's that?" She was pointing to the corner of the road where they were walking on, near a worn out building that housed a bakery of the human variety. A figure sat next to one wall, hunched up and covered in a worn out travelling cloak. Such things were out of place, so he merely placed a hand on his sisters head.

"It's just a person down on their luck, no need to be concerned." He went to move on, but saw the hunched figure stir as he walked by. He heard Micah run to his side with a shriek, clutching his coat for dear life as he raised a eyebrow. With a shrug. he held out his hands. "Sorry pal, I don't do charity. You'll have to beg for silver seeds somewhere else."

The figure responded by getting to his feet, needing to support himself on the wall to stop from falling back over. Zanth just chuckled. "Are you that desperate? 'sigh', fine, I suppose I can give you one seed." Poor b*****d looked like he was about to die right then and there anyway.

He reached into his pocket, flicking a silver seed at the guy who strangle enough, just ignored it. "I'm not about to give you any more-!"

His sister screamed when the figure grasped his hand. At first he thought they would come to blows, but instead he just...collapsed. "Woah, What do we have....here...."

Slowly, he pulled back the hood, and just stared at him, shocked red eyes meeting tired, very tired blue ones.