"Would anyone like to purchase my home made candles?"
Lamb had always been fascinated by candles. The concept alone seemed so quaint to her. A small, domesticated flame? Mortals were so strange. They seemed to hold some kind of significance though. The spirit steps fowards, wrapping a delicate hand around a candle that was shaped like a heart, lifting it as one would lift an apple they'd found at the market. "May I... Have this one?" Lamb asks, looking up at the 'artist'.
Before another word could be said, a dark blur shoots forward and snatches up the wax heart. Wolf takes a bite of the wax and immediately starts coughing, hacking and spitting up chunks of what used to be a candle. "BLEGH! Disgusting! Not nearly as good as the real thing." He whines, sticking his tongue out like a petulant child.
The odd stranger wasn’t a sight out of the ordinary in the village market, and as such Khada Jhin was perfectly happy to turn from where he sat, sewing a doll(another of his assorted wares) to greet the customers with a bright smile. It faded the second he caught an eyeful of who exactly he’d just come face to face with.
Jhin was far from unfamiliar with the tales of the Kindred, he’d studied how they manifested across culture quite a lot while in prison-- he found it a bit odd he saw them presenting to him like this, as it wasn’t quite in line with how Ionia perceived them-- but then again, for all he knew, he could have very well been hallucinating their presence entirely. It wouldn’t have been so unusual, not with that nightmarish demon that had been tailing him over the past few months, and especially not when it seemed he was the only one at the market who was wholly aware of them. Red eyes slid from stall to stall carefully to see if anyone had taken notice of the pair, but not a single person seemed to bat an eyelash.
Pulled from his pondering by the sudden lurch of a shadow and the destruction of one of his many hand-carved candles, he withheld any sounds of distress one might expect in favor of trying to show the deities of death some level of respect(and also, perhaps, to appear more put together than he actually was). A silence formed in the brief stillness after the Wolf had spoken, soon broken by the clearing of his throat as he leaned in, hands folding politely in front of him.
“They’re...not really intended for consumption, but I did bring some onigiri from home, if you’d like to try that,” He murmured to them, once more glancing around with the hopes that no one would see him talking to what must have looked like thin air to the other market dwellers. He leaned in a little bit further, towards the Lamb-- a look of grave concern on his features as his hands spread onto the wood before him. He whispered to her.
“Have you come for me? I should hope not.”
"Fear not," The melodic voice of Lamb rings out, calm and soothing. "You're time has yet to come. We merely wished to browse your wares." She explains, absentmindedly placing a hand on Wolf's head and smoothing down his wild pelt. Wolf coos and leans into the touch.
"It is quite the impressive craftsmanship." The Lamb muses, a hint of admiration in her monotone voice.
Wolf shakes out his fur, effectively throwing off the snowy white hand that had been combing through the untamed locks. "It is quite unfortunate they could not taste of the real thing. It would seem Mortals have grown more... Accepting of their deaths in the modern age." He growls out, his disappointment evident.
In all the Kindred's most recent hunts, their prey had always chosen to surrender to Lamb's bow, rather than run from Wolf's hungry jaws. And while this certainly made their job easier, the ghostly Wolf couldn't help but long for the taste of blood and the thrill of the chase.
