whvler
He was reminded of a small boy at the sight of Thomas; one with a rapidly erratic gaze and a rat as his familiar. Perhaps it was a mutual way of survival or the set of common possible routes fate would lead them in, but reasoning aside; The Outsider experienced a mildly higher interest for each than the typical city dweller. That was until both followed their positively most BORING fated path. One seeking revenge on the neighborhood bullies whilst the other settling as a ( temporarily ) dedicated city watchman; the predictability of humans was borderline absurd -- though The Outsider certainly gave no benefit of the doubt.
It was only until Thomas joined the Whalers that The Leviathan was reminded of his existence, by the association of a very old friend. Once a figure tossed aside as failed entertainment; now the subject of recycled fascination, the representative god let himself wonder how it felt to be branded a heretic by the Abbey of the Everyman, only to later use his secondhand gift passed along from Daud. He wouldn’t allow the query to linger on his mind without answer.
-- There were, of course, other matters to address. Thus, he struck two birds.
Luring an essence into his domain was easiest when it was at it’s most vulnerable. Sleep was a weakness to every living being. “Do you feel any familiarity by my presence?” Fabricating with wisps of fog, he found himself most comfortable with his arm resting upon an according knee as he sat upon a floating fragment in the dead sea. “Thomas Briggs; we have a mutual friend. It’s a pleasure to meet one of his loyal underlings.”