menaceoftheskies:
“Do you really think I’d give a fuck if he ran around feasting on the flesh of the living?” Felix asks, snorting. “I’d only care if he did it to annoy me. Which, knowing him, he probably would. He’d find a way to be irritating about it.”
He has absolutely no idea what Orrin’s doing on the back of the mirror – drawing something in blood, maybe. Witches, man. Always up the weirdest shit.
“Quite a bit of feeling,” he repeats. “Is that a weirdly polite way of saying he hates me? I mean, yeah. Obvious.” He gives Orrin his most winning smile. “So is this what you do? Hang around in dark tents and let people talk to spirits?”
“No, have a very egocentric air about you. And unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to help himself,” he informs the younger man. As curious as the case sounded, he wasn’t about to risk his business and all that he’s built here for a quick and likely disappointing adventure. “Ghouls have an insatiable lust for flesh, it would have nothing to do with you. Which means the city would focus on me should a massacre occur. And the last thing I need at the moment is to be burnt at the stake.” Again.
As if a smile would have any effect on Orrin. The only thing that ever pulls his attention are the sounds of agony and pain and the heavy feeling of a vengeful spirit’s rage.
“Or love,” Orrin replies, hoping the mere thought of that thing loving him would cause some type of disgusted reaction. “It can be difficult to tell the two apart sometimes, and there have been occasions where it’s both.” The witch walks past the dragon, making his way towards the tent’s entrance. “I’m a priest, I use creatures and humans like yourself to lure in restless and lost spirits,” he says, holding the canvas flap open and gestures for the dragon to leave. “As I said, I’m afraid I can’t assist you with this case but I do hope you find what it is you’re looking for, Mr...”
