#𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫. (aldo)

[lost-soul-in-time]

The revenant is following Edith like a lost dog. His hands grip his own, patched cloak, and he stares at her. Following. He doesn't know what else to do.

It's barely dawn when they've finally left.

Edith's own cloak shields her from the crisp air as she steps out through the main entrance, and Aldo's finished hauling the remainder of her things into the back of the wooden carriage. The only light comes from the candles he's graciously lit for them.

"Travel safely, My Lady." Aldo speaks, voice low as if anything above a whisper would awaken the darkness inside the palace. "I will aid you in any way possible. Your word is my command."

"And you'll have a place to stay if you ever change your mind." Edith solemnly replies in return, wrapping her arms around her dear friend for the last time until they meet again. When that will be, she isn't sure. Aldo's decided to stay, and while she doesn't fully understand why, she has no other choice but to respect his own.

With one last smile in his direction, she turns towards Aaron. He stands still and watches her, not a single word uttered, and Edith tells herself she's going to fix this. She'll do anything, she just... has to try, at least. "Come now. It's time to leave."

As if treating a delicate artifact, her hands gently hold his arms and guide him up into the carriage, one step at a time, sitting him down and sighing heavily. Before she closes the door, she gives the castle one last look. It stands tall and strong as any fortress should, but this place wasn't just a fortress to her. It was her home, for so long.

Not anymore.

"I'm sorry." She whispers, and with a deep breath in, she closes off her contact with the souls who reside inside.

Her family didn't live there anymore. They died a long time ago. It was time she came to terms with that.

[lost-soul-in-time]

Aldo isn't used to being mentioned by anyone other than Oliver, so when he's complimented by Merrick for a job well done, he's offering a smile with a hint of pleasant surprise and standing up straighter. Edith is amused by his reaction, as if he doesn't already receive enough praise for his skills, but she doesn't show it on her face. Instead, she focuses back on her brother and Merrick, refusing to admit the admittedly large feline has most of her attention.

Oliver makes his way down the few steps that initially lead up to the throne, the pommel of his sword being used as more of a hand rest than actually a threatening display for once. "I'm grateful. Before I take you up on your offer, however, there are a few things I'd like to go over beforehand, such as where your station will be—"

"It's right beside mine." Edith cuts in with her elated smiled evident in her voice, hands intertwined in front of her in order to squeeze at them to release her excitement without seeming utterly embarrassing. While it's obvious that she's completely thrilled to have another magic user to go to for advice and assistance, she can only hope her limited abilities won't seem bootless in comparison to Merrick's own.

The woods were his home. The place he grew up, secluded from the public eye at all costs. Oliver liked to believe he knew every corner of these grounds, and yet he’d never admit to the mild surprise and intrigue he found himself feeling at the mention of an alleged Witch having resided deep in that same forest.

He doesn’t make it a habit of leaving the castle without his entourage, but he’s more than capable of protecting himself if an agreement can’t be made and the situation turns hostile. The idea of one of them listening in on his proposition for this aforementioned witch also wasn’t one he wanted to consider occurring.

With the patience of a saint he’d never be, his strides are slow and patient as he saunters through the territory he hadn’t given much of his attention to in the past. As if always on guard yet not ready to strike at any little thing, his gloved hand rests atop the handle of the sword sheathed next to his hip, attentively inspecting the seemingly empty area.

The devil’s come to get what it wants.

Merrick can sense him as soon as he gets close enough.

On a few of her excursions into town, she had heard tales of a wanted man, a villian terrorizing the kingdom and palace. There were even posters hanging throughout the marketplace where she sold her wares in disguise. At times, she... felt something. The telltale prickling at the back of her skull, indicating forces beyond the realm of 'normal' society.

She didn't know if they were related occurances, but Merrick was also intrigued. It had been quite some time since she's met someone else who wasn't merely a mortal being. Other than her familiar, that is.

Speaking of Artemis, he usually insisted on guiding people who have wandered too far into the woods, either back out or to the cottage itself. Merrick doesn't deem it necessary this time. The deep purple fog that had started to roll in gradually begins to lift, and a cottage comes into view up ahead.

Along with the lady of the house, standing at the gated entrance with her arms crossed. She wears a lavender dress with flowing skirts, ringlets of raven hair framing a tan complexion. Emerald green eyes stand out amidst black markings around her eyes, a strip of white drawn across the bridge of her nose.

At her feet is the large black cat with glowing eyes of molten amber, hackles raised as he takes in the visitor.

It's him. The same presence she felt in the village. "Greetings. What do you want?" She calls across the distance to him. Her tone is even and calm... not quite bored, but neutral.

[lost-soul-in-time]

Getting torn to pieces always leaves Aaron feeling out of sorts.

Putting himself back together is enough of a chore. He's lucky that he'd been intact enough to actually still move around. But being set upon by some of his master's more vicious enemies has left him—

He's missing some pieces.

Technically, he doesn't need anything beyond a skeleton and some muscles to keep going. Everything else is optional. But it still feels intrinsically wrong to be this empty. The remains of his humanity struggling for any sense of normalcy.

Aaron drags himself back to his master's castle, haphazard stitches barely holding him together. He's no good at sewing. The revenant stumbles and bumps into things. His mind hasn't been the clearest in a long time, but it definitely feels worse now.

Oliver's not easy to find. It would probably be easier if Aaron wasn't falling apart both externally and internally.

"Do you have a heart?" He rasps as he leans in the doorway, black and silver gaze roaming the room for anything that would give him any sort of relief. "I need— I need—" He wants to rip into the nearest living human and take everything for himself. "Lost— Lost mine—"

When Aaron stumbles upon Oliver's presence, he's not alone as he had been during previous interactions. He hadn't needed to feel something was off before the sight of his revenant is, quite literally, hanging by badly sewn together threads. In a way, the way his body functions is fascinating to watch. A broken doll helplessly putting itself back together after every accident.

And yet he always finds his way back to him in the end, looking to be fixed.

When he asks for a heart, Aldo's own nearly stops functioning when Oliver glances over at him. Obviously, he would never harm his personal guard, but it was amusing to know the other man thought he would. Good. It keeps him constantly aware.

"Go prepare the prisoner." He didn't need to elaborate. Aldo knew what he meant.

"Yes, Sire." With a bow of his head, his guard makes haste towards the cellars, but Oliver stays behind. His gaze travels over the body which had been ripped apart at the seams and clumsily glued back together with an unreadable expression, hand on his sword tightening.

"You'll get your heart." He breaks the tense silence, standing in front of Aaron in less than a few steps before grasping his jaw and forcing his head up. The motion was familiar now; an owner forcing their dog to look at them. "Take this as an opportunity for improvement, and a warning. I will not always have what you need, and you'll be forced to drag your corpse around my halls during your healing process one day. Recklessness gets you nowhere."

Oliver makes a mental note to personally take care of whatever led to his revenant's broken state. If anyone is allowed to hurt him, it's him. Only him.

[lost-soul-in-time]

Open: Do they enjoy having things in their mouth? If so what are their favorite oral fixations? (fingers, toys, giving oral, etc.)

Zones: Favorite places they like to be touched? Are some less obvious than others? Any places they absolutely hate being touched?

Dominance: Are they into those types of power dynamics? Or do they like to stick to whose topping and bottoming? If they are into it why? If they aren't why not?

For Aldo don’t perceive me 😅

Well hello there, I am Perceiving you rn 👀

Open: Do they enjoy having things in their mouth? If so what are their favorite oral fixations? (fingers, toys, giving oral, etc.)

This man has the biggest oral fixation ever oml, he’ll gladly go down on his partner any time. Trust me when I say he knows how to use his mouth, and if you ask nicely or demand him, he’ll be more than happy to show you 💖

Zones: Favorite places they like to be touched? Are some less obvious than others? Any places they absolutely hate being touched?

PULL HIS HAIR !! No matter the context, if you yank his hair for more room to mark his skin, to get him to look at you, or while he’s going down on you, this man will go Feral. He absolutely loves having his partner thread their fingers into his hair and tug on it while he’s fucking them or the other way around. I look at that man’s head of hair and I want to braid flowers into it and pull on it all the same…

Dominance: Are they into those types of power dynamics? Or do they like to stick to whose topping and bottoming? If they are into it why? If they aren't why not?

He is definitely into those types of dynamics, and Aldo’s comfortable being in either position. If he’s filling in a more dominant role, he’s leaning more towards a gentler side compared to Oliver. Then again, compared to what his boss is into, anything else is gentle in comparison sjsksj. That doesn’t mean he won’t tie you to his bedpost and edge you into desperate pleads if you decide to defy him. If the roles are switched, he definitely has a mouth on him, and he’ll use his words to try and deflect the tremendous effect his partner has on him. If you praise him for doing well, he might just whimper 🤭

[lost-soul-in-time]

As the questions continue to come, Aldo decides to make himself comfortable if the newcomer decides that company was needed. The transition from one life to another could be a long, complicated process, and he knows any kind of support would've done wonders for him, at least. Drawing his sword from his sheathe, he sits down at one of the seats by the bare chimney and places it beside him to unarm himself and not have the weapon being a bother to him. His elbows casually sit on the armrests as he hums thoughtfully, thinking over Murdock's questions.

"I'm in charge of keeping tabs on my knights and making sure they don't make a, um... fatal mistake, just in the chance the superior isn't in the right mindset." He doesn't mean to make it sound the way it does, but on a bad day, you had to make sure you made as minimal mistakes as possible. "It's possible you're not the only informant. I may know most of his plans, but that doesn't mean I know all of them."

This was rock bottom. Murdock once was a golden figure throughout his county, the son of the lord and one of the best knights in the little cluster of villages his family ruled over. Now, he was climbing the walls of a castle just so he could keep eating. One of the windows happened to be only a few meters high, leading into one of the kitchens. Across his back was everything he owned, the pack strapped around his chest and looped over his arms as he climbed. He was sure he was quiet, creeping past the doors until he started to find trinkets to sell. A few gold flowers snapped from picture frames, tassels of silk cut from curtains and rugs, and jewels plucked from their set place in delicate furniture.

Guards walk by in shifts, counted out carefully by Murdock as he ducks into empty quarters each time he nears the countdown. Finding a few sizeable gems made him lose count, walking out of the room and straight into the path of two guards. Only two feet from the window, he’s pushed into the rough stone of the wall. One of them rips the straps off of him, seizing his bag while the other drags him down the hallway. Someone is awake.

@murdersinthemaking

Evenings were the most stressful part of his day.

Whether he’s fabricating further plans or tearing off a vital bodily function when answers aren’t given to him (or simply to blow off steam), his personnel are always forewarned on secluding themselves and keeping away from the villainous creature they blindly served. So when one of his watchman interrupt the sounds of agonized wails he’d been pulling from his latest victim — a pompous man swimming in wealth who had no issue attempting to send a dog after his scent to gain glory from killing him — he’s already not pleased.

Oliver doesn’t take the time to clean off the splatters of crimson on the side of his face, only slipping on his gloves and wool coat before being lead towards the informed intruder.

His face is always devoid of emotion, but it doesn’t take a brilliant mind to sense his displeasure in his steps nor his annoyance in his gaze.

A harsh blow from a foot hitting the back of Murdock’s knee sends him to the floor, held down and forced to kneel as he enters the room. A hand rests over the sword in its sheathe on his hip, and once he’s close enough, a hand grabs the exiled knight firmly by the jaw, forced to stare up at him.

“This is what you waste my time with?” He scolds at the two men, voice cold and barely sparing a glance at them before addressing Murdock for the first time. “State your purpose here.” Oliver collectedly commands, leaving little to no room for protest.

[lost-soul-in-time]

Already he feels he shouldn't have said anything. It would've made things much easier for his Lord's guests if they weren't downcast by the information he reveals. Aldo can feel the shift in mood and wonders how it was possible to have gone from friendly greetings and casual smiles to not-so-fondly reminiscing of the past.

"I apologize, it's— I should not have said anything." He faintly apologizes, catching a short glance of Merrick looking down at Artemis with an expression he can't quite read. A silence that wavers between being comfortable and being tense stretches over them as time passes, and when he's about to try and break it, the familiar structure of the dark castle begins to come into view.

Thank the Gods.

"Ah, it seems we're ready to arrive shortly." Aldo is immensely relieved with the opportunity to lighten the air once again, the sound of his smile crossing onto his face evident in his voice. The castle wasn't as extravagant compared to the King's own, but to any newcomer, it's still a sight to marvel at for at least a few seconds.

The woods were his home. The place he grew up, secluded from the public eye at all costs. Oliver liked to believe he knew every corner of these grounds, and yet he’d never admit to the mild surprise and intrigue he found himself feeling at the mention of an alleged Witch having resided deep in that same forest.

He doesn’t make it a habit of leaving the castle without his entourage, but he’s more than capable of protecting himself if an agreement can’t be made and the situation turns hostile. The idea of one of them listening in on his proposition for this aforementioned witch also wasn’t one he wanted to consider occurring.

With the patience of a saint he’d never be, his strides are slow and patient as he saunters through the territory he hadn’t given much of his attention to in the past. As if always on guard yet not ready to strike at any little thing, his gloved hand rests atop the handle of the sword sheathed next to his hip, attentively inspecting the seemingly empty area.

The devil’s come to get what it wants.

Merrick can sense him as soon as he gets close enough.

On a few of her excursions into town, she had heard tales of a wanted man, a villian terrorizing the kingdom and palace. There were even posters hanging throughout the marketplace where she sold her wares in disguise. At times, she... felt something. The telltale prickling at the back of her skull, indicating forces beyond the realm of 'normal' society.

She didn't know if they were related occurances, but Merrick was also intrigued. It had been quite some time since she's met someone else who wasn't merely a mortal being. Other than her familiar, that is.

Speaking of Artemis, he usually insisted on guiding people who have wandered too far into the woods, either back out or to the cottage itself. Merrick doesn't deem it necessary this time. The deep purple fog that had started to roll in gradually begins to lift, and a cottage comes into view up ahead.

Along with the lady of the house, standing at the gated entrance with her arms crossed. She wears a lavender dress with flowing skirts, ringlets of raven hair framing a tan complexion. Emerald green eyes stand out amidst black markings around her eyes, a strip of white drawn across the bridge of her nose.

At her feet is the large black cat with glowing eyes of molten amber, hackles raised as he takes in the visitor.

It's him. The same presence she felt in the village. "Greetings. What do you want?" She calls across the distance to him. Her tone is even and calm... not quite bored, but neutral.

[lost-soul-in-time]

“Perfect! You’re free to put away any supplies in these chaneries.” Aldo gestures helpfully towards the bags attached to his stallion’s saddle, and with a gentle pat to the graceful creature, it lifts itself up from its previous resting position and stands tall, ready for their travels.

“Allow me,” The guard offers a hand towards Merrick and assists her in mounting the horse, making sure there’s no risk of her tumbling off before glancing back down at Artemis with a smile that never seems to falter. Whether it was because meeting peaceful newcomers was always welcome or simply because he adores any animal’s presence is unclear. Perhaps both.

“Come now, you can sit with your Lady. Promise to stay still during our travels, hm?” Aldo speaks during the process of delicately lifting up the feline, placing him in front of the Witch to make himself comfortable. Once ready, he easily hoists himself up and signals for his horse to begin walking towards their destination.

The woods were his home. The place he grew up, secluded from the public eye at all costs. Oliver liked to believe he knew every corner of these grounds, and yet he’d never admit to the mild surprise and intrigue he found himself feeling at the mention of an alleged Witch having resided deep in that same forest.

He doesn’t make it a habit of leaving the castle without his entourage, but he’s more than capable of protecting himself if an agreement can’t be made and the situation turns hostile. The idea of one of them listening in on his proposition for this aforementioned witch also wasn’t one he wanted to consider occurring.

With the patience of a saint he’d never be, his strides are slow and patient as he saunters through the territory he hadn’t given much of his attention to in the past. As if always on guard yet not ready to strike at any little thing, his gloved hand rests atop the handle of the sword sheathed next to his hip, attentively inspecting the seemingly empty area.

The devil’s come to get what it wants.

Merrick can sense him as soon as he gets close enough.

On a few of her excursions into town, she had heard tales of a wanted man, a villian terrorizing the kingdom and palace. There were even posters hanging throughout the marketplace where she sold her wares in disguise. At times, she... felt something. The telltale prickling at the back of her skull, indicating forces beyond the realm of 'normal' society.

She didn't know if they were related occurances, but Merrick was also intrigued. It had been quite some time since she's met someone else who wasn't merely a mortal being. Other than her familiar, that is.

Speaking of Artemis, he usually insisted on guiding people who have wandered too far into the woods, either back out or to the cottage itself. Merrick doesn't deem it necessary this time. The deep purple fog that had started to roll in gradually begins to lift, and a cottage comes into view up ahead.

Along with the lady of the house, standing at the gated entrance with her arms crossed. She wears a lavender dress with flowing skirts, ringlets of raven hair framing a tan complexion. Emerald green eyes stand out amidst black markings around her eyes, a strip of white drawn across the bridge of her nose.

At her feet is the large black cat with glowing eyes of molten amber, hackles raised as he takes in the visitor.

It's him. The same presence she felt in the village. "Greetings. What do you want?" She calls across the distance to him. Her tone is even and calm... not quite bored, but neutral.

[lost-soul-in-time]

“No need to apologize. I would’ve found my destination eventually.” Aldo chooses to ignore the possibility of Merrick witnessing his clear struggle and instead takes the opportunity to offer a hand down to Artemis, because how could he possibly leave out the dashing cat who only seemed to take pride from his previous words.

“Artemis, is it? It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re quite the refined one, aren’t you?” Unable to resist giving just a short bout of affection, he gently strokes the top of Artemis’s head with his knuckles, scratching lightly behind an ear before reluctantly pulling away to get their transportation ready.

The stallion doesn’t waste a second in sniffing Merrick’s hand before huffing once and leaning its head up for her to scratch under it’s chin. It seems to have no problem in asking for what it wants. “She can be quite demanding, but she’s awfully sweet… before we move on, do you have everything you’ll need?”

The woods were his home. The place he grew up, secluded from the public eye at all costs. Oliver liked to believe he knew every corner of these grounds, and yet he’d never admit to the mild surprise and intrigue he found himself feeling at the mention of an alleged Witch having resided deep in that same forest.

He doesn’t make it a habit of leaving the castle without his entourage, but he’s more than capable of protecting himself if an agreement can’t be made and the situation turns hostile. The idea of one of them listening in on his proposition for this aforementioned witch also wasn’t one he wanted to consider occurring.

With the patience of a saint he’d never be, his strides are slow and patient as he saunters through the territory he hadn’t given much of his attention to in the past. As if always on guard yet not ready to strike at any little thing, his gloved hand rests atop the handle of the sword sheathed next to his hip, attentively inspecting the seemingly empty area.

The devil’s come to get what it wants.

Merrick can sense him as soon as he gets close enough.

On a few of her excursions into town, she had heard tales of a wanted man, a villian terrorizing the kingdom and palace. There were even posters hanging throughout the marketplace where she sold her wares in disguise. At times, she... felt something. The telltale prickling at the back of her skull, indicating forces beyond the realm of 'normal' society.

She didn't know if they were related occurances, but Merrick was also intrigued. It had been quite some time since she's met someone else who wasn't merely a mortal being. Other than her familiar, that is.

Speaking of Artemis, he usually insisted on guiding people who have wandered too far into the woods, either back out or to the cottage itself. Merrick doesn't deem it necessary this time. The deep purple fog that had started to roll in gradually begins to lift, and a cottage comes into view up ahead.

Along with the lady of the house, standing at the gated entrance with her arms crossed. She wears a lavender dress with flowing skirts, ringlets of raven hair framing a tan complexion. Emerald green eyes stand out amidst black markings around her eyes, a strip of white drawn across the bridge of her nose.

At her feet is the large black cat with glowing eyes of molten amber, hackles raised as he takes in the visitor.

It's him. The same presence she felt in the village. "Greetings. What do you want?" She calls across the distance to him. Her tone is even and calm... not quite bored, but neutral.

[lost-soul-in-time]

The sound of a soft meow caused Aldo to look behind him and away from his horse, gaze falling further down when he notices the cat who had only just appeared because he wasn’t there earlier, was he? A kind, gentle smile crosses onto his face as easily as melted butter at the feline; animals were a weak spot for the soldier.

“Well, hello there, you handsome fellow. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Aldo would’ve extended his hand for the cat as a greeting, but Merrick emerging from the darkness makes him stand a bit straighter, smile turning more respectful as he nods once after her query.

“That would be me, Madam. I do hope your friend here isn’t afraid of my own companion.” He lightheartedly adds, turning his head and letting his hand brush over the stallion’s silver mane.

The woods were his home. The place he grew up, secluded from the public eye at all costs. Oliver liked to believe he knew every corner of these grounds, and yet he’d never admit to the mild surprise and intrigue he found himself feeling at the mention of an alleged Witch having resided deep in that same forest.

He doesn’t make it a habit of leaving the castle without his entourage, but he’s more than capable of protecting himself if an agreement can’t be made and the situation turns hostile. The idea of one of them listening in on his proposition for this aforementioned witch also wasn’t one he wanted to consider occurring.

With the patience of a saint he’d never be, his strides are slow and patient as he saunters through the territory he hadn’t given much of his attention to in the past. As if always on guard yet not ready to strike at any little thing, his gloved hand rests atop the handle of the sword sheathed next to his hip, attentively inspecting the seemingly empty area.

The devil’s come to get what it wants.

Merrick can sense him as soon as he gets close enough.

On a few of her excursions into town, she had heard tales of a wanted man, a villian terrorizing the kingdom and palace. There were even posters hanging throughout the marketplace where she sold her wares in disguise. At times, she... felt something. The telltale prickling at the back of her skull, indicating forces beyond the realm of 'normal' society.

She didn't know if they were related occurances, but Merrick was also intrigued. It had been quite some time since she's met someone else who wasn't merely a mortal being. Other than her familiar, that is.

Speaking of Artemis, he usually insisted on guiding people who have wandered too far into the woods, either back out or to the cottage itself. Merrick doesn't deem it necessary this time. The deep purple fog that had started to roll in gradually begins to lift, and a cottage comes into view up ahead.

Along with the lady of the house, standing at the gated entrance with her arms crossed. She wears a lavender dress with flowing skirts, ringlets of raven hair framing a tan complexion. Emerald green eyes stand out amidst black markings around her eyes, a strip of white drawn across the bridge of her nose.

At her feet is the large black cat with glowing eyes of molten amber, hackles raised as he takes in the visitor.

It's him. The same presence she felt in the village. "Greetings. What do you want?" She calls across the distance to him. Her tone is even and calm... not quite bored, but neutral.

[lost-soul-in-time]

Oliver’s choice loops persistently in his mind, as if his head were trying to convince him he’d made the wrong decision. It was an impulsive and irrational decision. He barely knows her, has no background information regarding who she truly could be and who she works with, and there was nothing in her path stopping her from going into town and providing the villagers with this new information.

But there’s a part of him that says she wouldn’t do that. He knew what real sincerity looked like. As he leaves her section of the forest and travels to his own, he can only hope he’s made the right choice, at least one that wouldn’t burn down more than he’s lost.

The days pass slowly, unbearably so. Oliver’s lips are forced to be especially sealed around everyone except the one person he trusts with his life, unable to confide his plans to another soul until the vermin is found and taught a lesson. Atop with the stress and the pain of his muscles being especially painful in the early mornings, he’d told Edith to send a guard to replace him.

Aldo had readily taken the order given to him, but without proper navigation, it takes him quite some time to roam through the woods, the stallion he brought along with him to serve as transport for the newcomers having much more patience than him. Sighing as he stops for a moment, he takes little notice of the fog around him as he holds onto the silver-coated horse’s lead and looks around.

“You’ve been of little help.” The guard lightly scolds towards the horse when it huffs and settles onto the ground, the halt in movement taken as an opportunity to rest. Among the trees that block out the ascending sun, where was he supposed to find a cat? What kind of animal reaches this section of the woods, and what cottage can blend so meticulously into its surroundings?

Damn it.

The woods were his home. The place he grew up, secluded from the public eye at all costs. Oliver liked to believe he knew every corner of these grounds, and yet he’d never admit to the mild surprise and intrigue he found himself feeling at the mention of an alleged Witch having resided deep in that same forest.

He doesn’t make it a habit of leaving the castle without his entourage, but he’s more than capable of protecting himself if an agreement can’t be made and the situation turns hostile. The idea of one of them listening in on his proposition for this aforementioned witch also wasn’t one he wanted to consider occurring.

With the patience of a saint he’d never be, his strides are slow and patient as he saunters through the territory he hadn’t given much of his attention to in the past. As if always on guard yet not ready to strike at any little thing, his gloved hand rests atop the handle of the sword sheathed next to his hip, attentively inspecting the seemingly empty area.

The devil’s come to get what it wants.

Merrick can sense him as soon as he gets close enough.

On a few of her excursions into town, she had heard tales of a wanted man, a villian terrorizing the kingdom and palace. There were even posters hanging throughout the marketplace where she sold her wares in disguise. At times, she... felt something. The telltale prickling at the back of her skull, indicating forces beyond the realm of 'normal' society.

She didn't know if they were related occurances, but Merrick was also intrigued. It had been quite some time since she's met someone else who wasn't merely a mortal being. Other than her familiar, that is.

Speaking of Artemis, he usually insisted on guiding people who have wandered too far into the woods, either back out or to the cottage itself. Merrick doesn't deem it necessary this time. The deep purple fog that had started to roll in gradually begins to lift, and a cottage comes into view up ahead.

Along with the lady of the house, standing at the gated entrance with her arms crossed. She wears a lavender dress with flowing skirts, ringlets of raven hair framing a tan complexion. Emerald green eyes stand out amidst black markings around her eyes, a strip of white drawn across the bridge of her nose.

At her feet is the large black cat with glowing eyes of molten amber, hackles raised as he takes in the visitor.

It's him. The same presence she felt in the village. "Greetings. What do you want?" She calls across the distance to him. Her tone is even and calm... not quite bored, but neutral.