If anyone could navigate the perilous swamplands of Hell’s Bayou, it was Remi.
The small, winged, stag had spent more time in them than anyone else in the Hunter’s Cult.
As much as he liked the safety and communal feeling of the Hotel, the bustle of the others and the crowded city often made him feel the need for some solitude and quiet.
At least, out here, the sights and scents were calming, the sounds dulled to distant, eerie things that filtered out of the dark.
It also gave him a secluded place to work his voodoo, under his Patron’s watchful guidance.
So here he sat, drawing a veve in the soft earth within a circle of brightly colored stones and sprinkled flour.
He had already sat the candles and offerings in place, so the veve was the last thing. He was so concentrated on his task, the poor thing didn’t realize that he wasn’t alone anymore.
In that Bayou, another spirit would lurk. He was rarely there, of course, seeing as this wasn’t exactly his domain. But someone he had frequent conversations with resided there. Well, sometimes. Recently, he’d found that said demon had been hiding away. Odd, really. Seeing as that one was usually loud, chipper and outgoing. And as far as he knew, he was also the manager of a hotel. So.. Why was he hiding away in his home?
Naturally, the Lwa was curious, so he had taken it upon himself to investigate a little. And as he wandered the swampy woods, he came across a peculiar sight. Ah. Another practitioner. And a spirit he knew quite well.
The scent of cigar smoke would fill the air as he approached, a deep, gritty humming echoing through the trees. He had a theatric flair after all.
He remained silent, however. Not speaking one word, knowing that interrupting a ritual would be quite rude, and could potentially cause it to go awry. So, he would merely observe, politely nodding his head at the other Lwa present. He wondered, why were they here? For the same reason as himself? Or a different one entirely?
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