*the Archivist stands at the edge of the Swamp, Eyeing the line where the snow begins to melt, the harsh Canadian climate gradually ceding place to a much warmer, more humid, and much Hungrier air. It hesitates for a moment before stepping across it.*
*it’s better dressed for a hike through a bog, this time - that is, not wearing a skirt, and equipped with good rainboots. It helps to know where you’re going for the day, rather than rushing out in office clothes to go save a reckless child.*
*it tries not to think about the reckless child in question and makes its way deeper in, the unnatural warmth and the buzzing of the insects a discordant note compared to the fresh early spring air it just left.* *it does not bother calling out for the Devourer. With every step pulled out of the sucking mud of his Domain, with every hunger pang, it knows that he has noticed its arrival. So it waits for him to make his appearance.*
[And indeed it doesn't have to wait for long. He was expecting it, after all.]
[A beetle settles on the Archivists hand, small jaws nipping into the flesh before it gets flicked away and searches for an easier target.]
[A wet huff to its left is heard by the Archivist, in time with a faint, crawling sensation of hunger. The Devourer is lifting its head from the water, regarding it with yellow eyes as he lazily swims towards the patch of semi-solid land.]
[It can tell that there is an initial greedy instinct, that he would like nothing more than to have a taste, why are you sitting still when this predator is coming closer do you Want to be eaten do you Want to be Meat maybe a sacrifice would have been a good idea feed someone else to- but he shakes himself, whiskers twitching, and settles into the muck. The Archivist knows he has eaten not too long ago. The urge is bearable, for now.]
You've come.