@awkwardcourage didn't ask for a starter but hey... ;))
"down, boy—." it's spoken quietly, but unshakenly, an order.
a tall figure stands in the decrepit doorway of the shed that emmanuel would call a home. it's dark in there, the full moon does little to shine past the elegant outline of shoulders wearing a long overcoat that blends together with long hair, black as the shadows inside. the door creaked softly when it was pushed open, but the figure's steps were soundless, safe for the iron-clad tip of a cane hitting the trodden ground. the sheep stir, and so does the dog of the flock. the intruder's eyes shine faintly against the darkness, accompanied only by the faint glint of teeth when he speaks.
"calm your sheep, i'd sooner gut them than let them run free. and we both know em wouldn't like that. and don't you start barking. a little birdie told me they are still out in the woods looking for him, you don't want to call them back here, now, do you?"
it's a melodic voice, leaving no space for interruption. it comes at hughie with that same certainty of understanding emmanuel had shown him once, though a lot less kind-sounding.
"— ugh, whatever. i'm not talking to a dog. put this on and let's chat."
a soft thud as fabric lands on the ground, too. an expectation unspoken lingers in the air even after he steps out again. the moon shines on his face as he does, and reveals features surprisingly soft, but stern. clothes too elegant and extravagant for this shed, for this village, for this entire area. an echo of cities far behind the hills. of civillisation. the clothes offered are a hoodie and some pants. they rest quietly on the ground, waiting on hughie to make his choice.
