Rowan was just going in, his eyes focused on the large tome written in Ancient Norse. He was in his eternal search for the recovery of his powers. He felt like he was close, so close and- Someone bumped into him, and Rowan’s primary thought was towards the priceless old book. “Careful! This book is older than all yer grandmothers combined, lad!” He blinked, surprised to see Tristan. He frowned a bit. “Uh… Well look at ye, all grown up. I guess they are right when they say the living sooner or later make an appearance…” He shrugged. “Sometimes the dead do as well, but that’s a whole different story, wouldn’t ye say?”
When the boy crouches down to pick up his belongings that fell down the floor the voice of someone all too familiar reaching out at him sends chills down his spine. He knows exactly who the voice belongs to and his first instinct is to summon a gust of wind to push him away but he does not want to draw attention to himself, so instead he collects the items and he stands tall, staring him with no fear visibly showing. “I didn’t think you’d still be employed here, Rowan.” His words come out like venom.
