prompt
It was already late in the evening but the merchant seemed unfazed by the passing of time. He sat, poised and elegant, watching the world around him. He didn’t seem bored but he sat, fingers laced atop the table; below it, he kept his toe tapping to some silent tune in his head. He was tall, by human standards, though while sitting down he didn’t seem particularly threatening. If you didn’t look at his face.
He had graceful features--sharp and refined. His chin and nose tapered to a point, giving him an air of sophistication, but that, combined with his slitted eyes and pointed teeth, there was something undeniably predatory about him. He watched with a hungry gaze and a mischievous, nearly sinister smile. His ears were pointed and were prominent despite being tucked behind his vibrant, multi-colored hair. The most intrusive feature that indicated there was something not human about him were the curling horns protruding from his temples and the oil-slick black scales that brushed his cheeks and forehead. He was well dressed, in a fashion obviously otherworldly, and seemed to enjoy dressing himself up in glistening gemstones.
His stall was somehow both simple and overwhelming; it was only a table with a deep purple cloth over it, but scattered neatly atop it were an array of items that seemed to carry some magical weight to them.
He did not seem intimidated in the slightest and, upon noticing a customer approaching, he smiled.
He did not rise to meet them nor adjust his position in the slightest. He followed them with his fierce eyes.
In a silky voice, he greeted, “Welcome.”
He had graceful features--sharp and refined. His chin and nose tapered to a point, giving him an air of sophistication, but that, combined with his slitted eyes and pointed teeth, there was something undeniably predatory about him. He watched with a hungry gaze and a mischievous, nearly sinister smile. His ears were pointed and were prominent despite being tucked behind his vibrant, multi-colored hair. The most intrusive feature that indicated there was something not human about him were the curling horns protruding from his temples and the oil-slick black scales that brushed his cheeks and forehead. He was well dressed, in a fashion obviously otherworldly, and seemed to enjoy dressing himself up in glistening gemstones.
His stall was somehow both simple and overwhelming; it was only a table with a deep purple cloth over it, but scattered neatly atop it were an array of items that seemed to carry some magical weight to them.
He did not seem intimidated in the slightest and, upon noticing a customer approaching, he smiled.
He did not rise to meet them nor adjust his position in the slightest. He followed them with his fierce eyes.
In a silky voice, he greeted, “Welcome.”
Rakovanite had gone out early because he'd wanted to be finished early. He'd reasoned it out to himself that this was the most practical solution. During the evening tended to be dangerous, usually. Not only were White Moon members likely to be more active, but civilians hadn't yet retreated to their homes for the night. He didn't want anyone getting too good a look at him and causing trouble for it, civilian or otherwise. A hoard was always dangerous, even an unpowered one.
But this festival prided itself on nightly activities. If Rakovanite waited until the sun had fully set, then there may be more people out to enjoy the sparkling lights, glowing lanterns, and glistening starscapes for which the festival had taken its name. It didn't seem unreasonable that he may want to get his draining out of the way early, so he wasn't fighting crowds enjoying summer activities. During this time of year, going out in the evenings, instead of the nights, was just practical.
So he'd done exactly that.
It was a relatively unexceptional evening, all things considered. No matter the festivities, Rakovanite's favorite bar was never particularly busy, nor completely empty. He only had to wait for someone to exit alone to snatch them into the back alleyway, drain them, filch any particularly nice amber star trinkets off of them, and leave them for the barkeep to find later.
No one asked any questions. No one thought anything was off- or no more so than usual, anyway.
Rakovanite could go home feeling satiated and accomplished, knowing that while he hadn't done anything exceptional, he'd at least done what was required of him. No more, no less.
But once his focus had shifted away from his duties, Rakovanite thought he'd felt a twinge in the air, something foreign and unusual, unlike what he may have expected to feel from other powered beings in the area. He shut his eyes and angled his head toward its source, as if trying to glean any information he could from just the odd aura. But nothing was forthcoming. If he was careful, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to investigate. He could at least travel reasonably quickly while powered, and if he found trouble, he could back out of it with the Shadow Charm, as he had last time.
Rakovanite followed the sensations of the aura.
It drew him out of the city proper, away from the brightest lights and loudest festivities until there was nothing but Rakovanite and the source of the aura: a man (or something?) seated at a stall with a table before him laid out with an array of oddities. Rakovanite's dark gaze scraped over the being, his clothes, his face, his horns. Even when the stranger greeted him, Rakovanite remained still, standing several yards away, and critical.
It did not feel like a senshi or a knight. The animalistic features may have suggested that he was some kind of half-youma, but it didn't look or feel the part of any Rakovanite had met prior.
He didn't come any closer than he had to to be heard as he rumbled, "What are you?"
