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 Posted: Thu Jul 05, 2012 11:56 am
 Emrys had allowed curiosity to get the better of him, for the umpteenth time. He'd gotten a bit too close to Poena Privus and as such, met face to face with what looked to be reaper and blackheart training. He'd shied away, sticking to the shadows and the trees like a feral cat, clinging to the branches or hanging from them like a bat when he couldn't see.
His eyes fixated on a rather dark reaper, one with hair that seemed to move like smoke and a smile that chilled Emrys to the bone. He cocked his head, from his upside down position, staring at the strange man, watching him move. There was so much power, but also passion. His aura was light despite looking so dark. Emrys was simply fascinated!
Emrys had been trying to pick up some leads on his long lost friend, Bane when he'd found the castle, crumbling and in shambles. It was strange to him how these people could live in such a dark place. He liked his simple huts, the warm fires and the night sky always watching. A castle was so...cold, and distant.
He continued staring, learning their movements, listening to their voices. He wondered how long it'd take for someone to notice, of if he'd simply fall under even their elitist radars.
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Posted: Thu Jul 05, 2012 12:26 pm
 Mischa hadn't seen the druid until he was finished with training, well, more like training and throwing jabs at his fellows until they turned purple in the face. Most of them were quite aware he fought a little too dirty, but they seemed always to be surprised when he threw cheap shots, and called them out about their mothers.
Yet he was always <********> smiling, no matter how much they beat him back. It wasn't like he could tug his lips down even if he wanted to.
He'd been walking away, laughing about some insult he'd sent to a blackheart when he'd seen the soft glint of something white out in the trees. He smiled greater, his brows raising as he moved with a rather doll-like appearance on his face, one that would send adults running from the monster that popped out next.
'And who the ******** are you, I wonder?' He whistled, moving closer to the trees, getting about twenty feet away, still his eyes never looked at the druid fully. While Mischa wasn't completely aware he was indeed a druid, something about that utter stillness, and the mask kind of gave it away. Not to mention this forest never smelt of flowers, and it suddenly did then. Only the flowers seemed to carry some kind of decay, for the smell wasn't all entirely pleasant.
He leaned up against the tree, just whistling, pulling out a cigarette and taking a long drag after he'd lit it. He watched the smoke turn into his token skull, and laughed sardonically at it. "Your head gunna burst from all that blood? Or am I going to have to whack it off for you?" His tone was flat, with a bite of sarcasm, but whether the druid caught the gentle jab or not, he wouldn't know just yet.
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