Tyrael sighed, clutching the withered corpse of the flower in his hand. It was once a beautiful white, almost pearly. A merchant had informed him it was called a tulip. It was pretty, sure, but it brought butterflies. Demons with wings, if you asked Tyrael. He remembered the days when he had a full garden of flowers, and butterflies would come in swarms. It was enchanting, and even his brother gasped at the sight.

But they all died, after a week or two. Each little one would fall dead before it ever saw beyond the village.

Every. Last. One.

He didn't need that in his life, so into the pocket the flower went.

A passing dragonborn noticed Tyrael and walked over, an irritatingly large smile on her scaled face.. 'Not this again...' At this point he was starting to get used to being questioned in the middle of nowhere. Where was he from, was he ok, where are his parents, where did he get the earring.

It was really starting to irritate him.

She crouched down to match his height and put her hand on his shoulder. "What's a lil' fella like you doin' out here?" she asked, her voice seemingly raised an octave to seem less threatening.

The elf glanced at her. He wasn't in the mood for this at the best of times, and right now was anything but the best. And people had been doing this for years, wasn't he allowed to be mad once in a while? People got mad at things all the time. Hells, Tyrael had seen a group of adults yelling at a bag earlier. Something about bad fabric. If people were allowed to be mad at fabric, then of course he could be mad at something like this!

But Tyrael simply glared, pulling himself away from her and walking a foot or two away to gain some personal space. As irritating as he found it, he wasn't a violent person. He normally either kept his anger silent, or got sad instead. It wasn't intentional, of course, and he really wished that he could stop, but no matter what he did he just couldn't do anything about it.

Then again, was that really that surprising?

He shook his head a bit, looking up from the ground and continuing to frown at the stranger in front of him.

"For your information, I'm 14. Perfectly normal age to be adventuring. And sorry I'm not a giant like some people, but I'm still average height." He brushed some nonexistent dirt off his shoulder.

The 'average height' elf turned around and started to walk away. He turned around, just as...

Nothing. He turned around and literally nothing happened. The dragonborn heard the small boy move again and similarly turned to look. She burst out laughing. And nope, apparently she didn't raise her voice at all, it was just naturally high pitched.

"Pfffft- AHAHAHA! You thought I was gonna fight you or something?"

"You- I- I thought- You were gonna attack me!"

The woman in front of him absolutely lost it at that.

"You thought- HAHAHAH- you thought I'd fight you? Why, cause I'm a big bad stranger? Bud, I don't care what you say, you're a kid. I wouldn't fight you!"

Tyrael fumed. Why was she laughing? It surely wasn't normal for someone to find an adventurer being rightfully cautious this funny.

She was a very tall stranger, who's level of tolerance against irritating short people was unknown to him. And he also didn't know if she was armed or not, and whether she was dangerous. Or violent. Or was known to keep grudges.

No reason for him to not be cautious.

Or for her to laugh this much.

It genuinely felt like years before she finally stopped, even if it wasn't more than a second or two. People passing by were staring at them, obviously wondering what was so funny, and Tyrael felt his face turn a deep shade of red with embarrassment. How did she have that much air in her lungs? Was she part mermaid or something? But, thankfully, she did eventually cease the apparent torture.

The stranger sighed heavily before looking back over at Tyrael, a grin that he thought had to be fake stuck on her face. It looked fake, too, like someone drew it in the air in front of her. No one's teeth were that bright.

"So, what're you in town for?" she asked, her voice seemingly still cheerful from the laughter.

"Well, Miss..."

"Nyilkediaris."

"...Miss..."

"Just call me Kedia."

"...Miss Kedia, I'm looking for a commission. But I can't find any guilds looking for recruits." Tyrael complained, but there wasn't much energy behind it. It was more of a sigh with words than anything else.

Kedia stared down at him, her grin remaining annoyingly persistent.

"No family, friends, anyone?"

Tyrael frowned. "Why does that matter?"

"Cause why would a kid wanna be an adventurer so young?" She crouched down, smirking. Why was she smirking. There was no reason for her to be smirking. But, still smirking for no good reason, she continued. "You sneak out from home, looking for a guild? Tryna stay away from your parents, maybe? Do they agree you're too young?"

The elf felt his face turn red again. Two times in one day. Pleasant.

"That- that isn't-"

Kedia stood up straight, ceasing her smirk but sticking with her smile. Better, but still not good enough. She had no reason to be smiling at all. "You sure? I wouldn't snitch on ya, by the way. I used to do the same when I was your age."

Tyrael's face continued turning redder. At this point, it wouldn't be surprising if Kedia was comparing him to an angry strawberry. It had happened before, who was to say it wouldn't happen again?

"First of all, I live alone, second of all, we are completely different, and third of all I don't think my family could care any less about what I want or don't want to do with my life-"

The dragonborn's suddenly face turned to one of worry. Pity. She crouched again, kneeling on the pavement. She brought a hand up, placing it on Tyrael's raised shoulder. "Hey, hey, it's alright kiddo, I'm sorry I triggered ya there. You alright? Wanna talk about it?"

Tyrael sniffed. Oh gods, he was crying. In front of a total stranger. In public. He wished that the ground would swallow him up right now. Maybe even remove every person in a fifty foot radius's memories of him ever existing. Even better, remove everyone's memories of him. For good measure.

He quickly wiped his tears away with his wrist and, as always, lifted his cloak up a bit to wipe his nose dry. "I'm sorry I-" Tyrael looked away at a nearby building, continuing his wish that the ground would swallow him whole. "I don't know what came over me, I- I'm really sorry. I promise I'm not normally like this." Because, frankly, he wasn't! This was completely out of nowhere!

Kedia replied with an emotion Tyrael couldn't read, "Hey, it's alright. It happens to the best of us. Look at me, alright? It's fine. I don't judge you!"

His eyes were still leaking, much to the elf's annoyance. That really needed to stop happening. What was crying even for, anyways? What situation would require someone to break down into tears? He doubted that a bear would stop attacking someone because they were scared, or sad. And an assassin wouldn't stop and ask you about how you were feeling. So yeah, crying was useless. No reason to exist.

Tyrael continued staring at the wall of the nearby tailor. It was now very interesting. Yeah, yeah, he really liked the color, mud suited it well. And the jeweler's? The exact same color. Fascinating.

"Ok, so, what were you saying about guilds?"

"I, uh, wanna join one but I can't find any." He replied, not looking back at her quite yet. He was focused entirely on the walls. In his defense, there were some houses nearby. And they were all the same muddy color. So extremely exciting. Tyrael almost blinked he was so surprised. Walls truly were amazing.

"That's cause you haven't been looking well enough!"

Wait, really? Tyrael thought he looked everywhere...

~~~

A bar.

Kedia had taken him... to a bar.

Tyrael's jaw dropped so far he wasn't quite sure if the ground was still there.

"A... a bar?! I'm 14! I can't go in there!" he protested.

His newfound guide grinned. "Oh, but aren't you a suitable age for an adventurer? And every adventure ends with a dozen or two beers~" she joked, dragging him in by the hood of his cloak. He replied by sticking his feet out in front of him, trying and failing to slow Kedia down a bit. It didn't work, of course, and Tyrael wasn't sure she even noticed his failed efforts.

No! He wasn't allowed in there! He was the opposite of allowed in there! If anyone found out about this, if Fy- right.

Taking a deep breath in, Tyrael stood up straight and walked in, pulling his hood over his face nervously. It obscured his vision of the room, sure, but... it was warm. He looked (or at least tried to look) around the room from behind the hood. He really needed to get a new one, this one was far too big for him.

He saw yellow light, presumably from lanterns around the room, fill the area. Soft chatter acted as background noise, and no one bothered to look when the occasional bout of sharp laughter occurred. It smelt of alcohol, sure, but the sweet scent of baked goods and tasty dinners made the air relatively pleasant.

Wait.

Did Tyrael... like the tavern?

Huh.

Learn something new every day, or something like that.

He couldn't hear that much over the chatter, but Kedia had stopped walking and he could see her making some hand gestures, so he assumed she was talking. With who, anyone's guess.

Tyrael continued looking around, starting to feel more comfortable here. The lanterns and candles made it feel more like a home than a shop, the light chatter made him feel more comfortable than he had in years. And there were so many people! A barperson - was that what they were called? Tyrael couldn't quite recall - darted around expertly, weaving between tables to tend to any tavern-goers' orders.

And was that... music in the background? Yes, a peculiar looking tiefling bard was playing the lute. Tyrael hadn't heard the song before, but it still felt oddly familiar. Like he'd heard it many times before. Either way, the boy found himself tapping his foot to the beat within just minutes.

He saw some adventurers (or at least Tyrael assumed they were adventurers, considering the weapons they carried) dancing, one shouting "C'mon Helxi! Can't be too bad at dancing, could ya?"

Almost immediately, a shy looking aasimar with long, maroon hair who looked to be just above his age got up and started to spin around with another party member, this one with pale purple hair. He longed to join them, ask if he could dance with them, maybe even join their party. They seemed lively enough. Maybe they could help scare the butterflies away.

Tyrael heard Kedia loudly say 'kiddo', obviously referring to him, and looked up. At least tried to look up... he had to pull his hood back down again so it'd stop falling over his eyes.

"There he is! Cinny, doesn't he look like a real fighter?" the blue scaled dragonborn lady exclaimed. "Practically begging for adventure!"

He thought of what he would look like to 'Cinny'. Firstly, as much as he told himself he wasn't short, he was still barely an ant to the two dragonborns before him. He hadn't brushed his hair in at least a week, and his cloak was oversized and had dozens of little scratches on it. And all of that was ignoring its torn edges and miscolored patches near the collar from tears, bleeding noses, things like that.

So he wouldn't exactly look very adventure ready.

The small elf just nodded, looking away from the dragonborns and back to the nearby adventurers. They seemed nice. Like, really nice. Surely they'd accept a young adventure such as Tyrael? But his fantasies were, as always, short-lived. The so called Guildmaster kept tapping him on the head. Trying to get his attention, sure, but that didn't stop it from being weird.

The man in question brought a blue claw up to his ruff to scratch an apparent itch. He was also a dragonborn, and an almost identical blue to Kedia. The woman in question nudged the Guildmaster with her elbow, joking "See? Already wants to join a party!"

He, ignoring the other dragonborn entirely, introduced himself to Tyrael. "Greetings, you may call me Taacin. I'm, as I'm sure you've heard from this one, the Guildmaster of the White Ravens." He bowed and accidentally knocked Tyrael's head with his own.

Kedia burst out laughing, and half the tavern did the same.

The elf fell to the ground, hitting his head on a stool as he did. Taacin mumbled an apology, but Tyrael just glared at the ground as he got up, face and ears burning more than he thought was normal. He decided to stand a bit further away from Taacin, standing a bit behind Kedia and to the side.

This was going to be a long day.

"So, you're supposed to take a ranking test to see who we'd put you with, but because of your, erm..." Taacin looked down at Tyrael with a slightly nervous expression but continued anyways, "circumstances, I'll just put you with our newest party. Oh, also, if I may ask. Where were you from?"

Tyrael instinctively brought a hand up to his ear as a single yellow butterfly flew into the elf's field of vision.

'Were? But I'm fro- right.'

"Adomina Pass. There's a village along there."

The Guildmaster nodded. "And why were you banished?"

Tyrael saw something in the corner of his eye and turned slightly to look. Red butterflies were swarming behind him, coming together to form a shape. The yellow butterfly from before flew into the swarm.

He heard something loud. Really loud. Was it a drum? Must be a drum. Probably that tiefling from earlier, switching up the instruments. Yeah, that was it. He really needs to get his rhythm right, it was all over the place.

The butterflies continued swarming into a shape that seemingly only they could understand, but that didn't stop Tyrael from guessing. It was f̷̡̫̫̯̪̣͈͍͑̈̆̌̓͂͋̆̆͆̈́̐͛̚ä̸̛̰̝̬̳͋̾̔͌͘͜͠͝͠ḿ̶̙̲̖͐̾̌̈́̂̄͌̿̆̈́̕į̵̖͓͖͈͙̲̲͍͂̍̋̈̐̑͐̒̽ľ̷̢̥͇̼̮̯̻̫̝̇͐̊̓̎͗̈́̃̋͐͛́̀ḯ̸̘̘̺̻̌̆̃͐̕ą̴̨̬̥̟͇̰̫͍̳͔͑̄͘r̵̲͚̟͚̱̠̯̦̩̳̻̣͚͉͒̈́̈̍̈́͒̀͋̐̅.

He quickly turned away, again facing the looming figure before him. His ear was numb as he mumbled, "I stole an artifact. Almost cursed the village, but someone saved it."

'Idiot.

They'll see through it.

Stop overreacting, it happened ages ago. You're just messing everything up like you always do.'

Taacin pulled Kedia to one side, and they started talking amongst themselves. They occasionally glanced back at Tyrael, and their facial expressions were unreadable.

'Congratulations! You managed to make them more suspicious than before. What now? Gonna tell them the sky's red?'

The elf, barely half the size of the two dragonborn, considered fleeing but was stuck to the spot. If they attacked him, what then? He only had a dagger and he barely knew how to hold it right, let alone how to wield it in battle. Glancing up at the figures before him yet again, they were both armed, Kedia with a great axe and Taacin with a warhammer.

He would never win in a fight with them. But would he even be fast enough to outrun them? Sure, he was fast, but they could surely run faster with their long legs.

Tyrael put his hand in his pocket, finding the withered flower.

Healers wherever he went told him that they could only preserve its life, not keep it fresh forever. And most just laughed at him, wanting to keep a dying flower that long.

He promised himself all those years ago that he wouldn't cry when it died. It was a flower, with no water or sunlight. It was a flower cut from its stem and shoved into a pocket. But the healers in this town were the ones that finally broke it to him, it was dead. There was nothing they could do.

But why should he be sad? It's just a flower, it shouldn't've lasted more than a week or two, he should be grateful. It's just a flower, it shouldn't've reminded him of anything. It's just a flower, it shouldn't've hurt like this.

He looked up again and brought his hand out of his pocket. It was just a flower, but it could at least do something. And what better to start a fire than dead plants?

Kedia raised her voice at her brother, "He's just a kid! Who cares what he's done! What if that were me? You'd want someone to care, right?"

Tyrael looked at the flower. And back at them. Two options. Surprisingly difficult, if he was being honest with himself.

He could escape. They didn't know his name, and they wouldn't remember his face. No one did. He'd leave some money, to help pay for the whole mess, and even if they did remember him, he hadn't been here before. Tyrael vaguely knew the trade routes, and could avoid them easily. He'd be safe. Anonymous again.

But it was nice here. The people seemed friendly. Hells, he felt happy just watching from afar. He didn't want to leave. Even if he had to hide, and only view the town from the shadows, he would be content.

Because at least these people were happy.

Tyrael didn't realize his eyes were clenched shut until he felt Kedia try get his attention by tapping his shoulder. She was again crouching before him, at his height. Her face had a smile on it, like always, but this one was different. It was softer.

Another thing he didn't want to leave.

Kedia said something that Tyrael didn't quite catch, then turned back to Taacin. They continued arguing.

Ok then. Time for pros and cons of leaving.

Pros, he wouldn't go to jail or anything, as long as he didn't get caught. Which he almost definitely wouldn't. Maybe he wouldn't do the whole fire thing though, just in case. And now that he knew to look in taverns for guilds, he'd be set, wouldn't he? Yeah. Now for cons.

Cons...

'Oh come on.'

So. There were several pros and no cons. Would it be worth it? Probably. Why wouldn't running away from absolute strangers be worth it. And there weren't any cons that he could think of.

He took one more-than-slightly nervous step backwards, away from the two dragonborns. Looking up, they were still arguing with each other.

Tyrael took a deep breath in. Then out. He turned slightly to the door, waiting.

The siblings continued arguing, thank the gods.

Someone dropped their mug. Someone came out to clean it within the minute, grumbling about clumsy customers as they did.

A traveler walked in, the now open door ringing the bell to alert the barperson of their presence. The elf whipped around, weaving through the crowded tavern. Wait, when did it get crowded? Whatever. He could figure that out later if he had to. Either way, he got through. The elf was used to places like this by now, and could slip through even the thickest of crowds.

He was outside now, which was good. No fires necessary. Tyrael glanced back at the tavern to see a sad Kedia and a tired Taacin trying and failing to slip through the crowd, probably to get to him. Why? He was just some random person they'd met and knew barely anything about. Sure he'd cried a bit but wouldn't that just weird some out even more? Why were they following him?

Tyrael walked as quickly as he could, knowing that he'd just run out of breath if he tried to run. He could walk fast, though, and by doing this he had more stamina anyways.

He looked over his shoulder. They had just exited the crowd, but the tavern door slammed in Taacin's face as he walked into it, which gave Tyrael a few seconds. But as soon as they could, the siblings started sprinting towards him at what seemed to be their full speed. And gods were they fast.

The elf replied by sprinting as fast as he could. He was fast, sure, but nowhere near fast enough to lose them.

Darting into a nearby street, he looked over his shoulder again. The siblings hadn't gone around the corner yet, which was good. Tyrael's eyes glanced around the area as he walked, trying to find something to hide behind. They would arrest him if they found him, wouldn't they? They'd almost definitely realized already that he was just a dirty, no good murderer-

The elf made a weird noise that was halfway between a cough and a yelp as someone grabbed his collar, bringing him to a slightly painful stop. He opened his eyes (seriously, when did he close them?) and tried to regain his footing. Gods, this was embarrassing.

"Oh come on, kiddo, what are you doing?" Kedia questioned, disappointment in her voice. Disappointment in him.

He quickly added under his breath, "Tyrael." If he was going to be a disappointment, he may as well be a named disappointment. He repeated a bit louder, "It's Tyrael."

The disappointment remained, even if it did leave a little bit. Kedia's smile didn't return as she said, "Ok, Tyrael. What were you thinking?" Taacin let go of him, finally, and Tyrael was allowed to stand up straight. He didn't, though, choosing instead to stare at the ground in front of him.

Well, now he knew for sure he couldn't outrun them. It was stupid to have tried in the first place, to be honest. He never should've even tried. But that still raised the question; why did they bother chasing him? Were they really that intent on arresting him for a crime he'd already been punished for?

Taacin started to argue with Kedia in a language he didn't recognize, but quickly turned to him and grabbed the hood of his cloak. Probably to make sure he didn't try to run again, but still. It was embarrassing to say the very least. The siblings started to argue – that seemed to be a common occurrence for them – and Tyrael's guilt only grew.

Even if there wasn't a reason he could find, the dragonborns still apparently had hope in him. For, again, no good reason. Not a good idea. He'd taken that hope from them and dropkicked it into the trash, then set the trash on fire, then poured water on the ashes just to set them on fire again. Again, having hope in a failure was never a good idea.

Guilt crept up in his throat, like a spider trying to crawl out of his stomach. "I'm sorry."

Tyrael wasn't crying this time; he was grateful for that at the very least. He was just staring at the ground. Because, unbelievably, the floor was also mud colored. That means everything in this town was. Fascinating. He'd have to give a warm congratulations to all the fine builders in the area, excellent work.

He was actually very glad that he wasn't crying, though, because he usually did. In fact, he was usually a crying, sobbing idiot by now. It happened every time.

Suddenly, Tyrael was somewhere else.

Two tall figures loomed before him, one arguing that he should be punished and the other arguing he should not. He wasn't fluent in the language they were speaking, only picking up a few words here and there. Words like 'out', 'mint', 'trouble' and 'sorry'. Not exactly a lot of context for him.

He was a sniffling mess in the corner, crying and not even knowing what he'd done wrong. There was yelling, which meant someone was angry. And he wasn't yelling, which meant he wasn't angry, which meant they were angry at him. The boy hiccupped, wrapping his arms around his sides and squeezing his eyes firmly shut.

'We're scaring him.' One of the figures, the one arguing for him to not be in trouble, started to walk over to him. He crouched down next to Tyrael, one hand on the child's shoulder and the other one wiping away his tears. 'I'm sorry Tyr, it's gonna be alright.'

He opened his eyes, expecting to see the comforting blueish purple and the sweet honey yellow. That would have been nice, wouldn't it? Like a warm hug and a hot cup of tea after being outside in the rain for just a little bit too long. But this was warm too, like an arm over your shoulder. Not quite as good as the hug, but it was still much appreciated.

Kedia sat in front of him, worry splattered over her face like a failed painter's commission. Which this town presumably had very few of, given the complete and utter lack of paint in the first place. Can't fail if you don't do it.

Tyrael knew that crying in public was rude, it would make people worry unnecessarily. That's what he'd always been told. It was a noisy distraction from decent people's days, that it would make people assume the wrong thing.

He glanced around. Taacin looked like he couldn't care less about him, and Kedia was already worried. There weren't any other people around who could be disturbed, and if there were it was probably just a drunkard or something sleeping somewhere further in the alley. And the dragonborns couldn't assume the wrong thing, whatever that was supposed to mean. Unless this was just a really complicated plan to arrest him, which he was starting to sincerely doubt was true.

So this little... incident would be fine.

Tyrael sneezed, blocking it with the back of his hand. This was good. He hadn't cried in a while, ignoring earlier. And even when he had, he hadn't had someone to comfort him since

Kedia quickly said a 'bless you,' interrupting Tyrael's line of thought.

The elf nodded a thanks.

The dragonborn stood up straight, crossing her arms in front of her. "So, Tyrael, if you want to join the guild, we could set you up with a party today or tomorrow. You alright with that?"

He nodded, prompting a sigh from Taacin.

"You're a child, which means you can't legally sign anything, so we need your verbal agreement. Do you want to join the White Ravens?"

Did he? He didn't really have a reason for becoming an adventurer, to be honest. But apparently most guilds didn't care about your background or age, so it was better than a heap of other jobs he'd tried. Like being a woodcarver, making little toys and things. He'd made a way better duck than all the other students, plus he'd finished so fast that he had time to make a little horse as well, but he was the only person to not get an apprenticeship.

Why not.

"Yes."

Kedia grinned, now fully back to her usual self. "Alright then! Let's get you set up with the best party there is." She followed this with another grin.

Tyrael smiled. Maybe this would work out.

~~~

Kedia lied.

They didn't let him join the cool party from tavern.

Or any cool party at all, for that matter.

Tyrael stared at the two... figures... before him. A firbolg and... was that a pixie? The gods really must be laughing at Tyrael.

The firbolg was tall, to say the least. He looked relatively young but he still towered over even Taacin. Maybe a head or two above him. And, of course, a mountain compared to Tyrael.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Oh, hells no.

Again, there was a pixie.

A pixie, as in a small, winged creature no more than a foot or two tall.

The firbolg from before knelt on the floor and presented his hand to Tyrael. Even then, he still towered over him. Was he trying to mock Tyrael? Was he trying to say 'oh hello, fellow short person, I am also a short person who is short'? Because first of all Tyrael was not short, he had no idea why people kept calling him short. All that he was guilty of was being shorter than several giants, which wasn't even his fault.

Ignoring the fuming elf in front of him, the firbolg introduced himself. "Hey there! I'm Carawin, and this is Swallowtail." he said with a smile. Seriously, what was up with that face? His nose took up maybe half of it, and dirt colored hair covered his apparently sun deprived blue face.

And the pixie – presumably called Swallowtail – had cream colored wings with sharp looking black tips. A little mess of orange that was either her hair or a dead cat sat upon her head, and even though her skin was a pale yellowy orange color it still looked horribly out of place. Like someone had taken a bunch of leaves and stuck them on her head with nothing but water. She also had angry brown eyes, similar to that of a wasp's, directed at Tyrael. They looked like they had little gems glittering in them. In fact, if you looked close enough, in between all of the little shimmers and highlights you could see any chances of the two getting along flying out the nearby window.

Swallowtail stuck her tongue out at Tyrael, seemingly attempting to provoke him. It worked, as he just barely stopped himself from doing the same.

The pair, together, looked... strange, to say the very least. Although, if Tyrael were being completely honest with himself, they'd look even weirder with him joining them.

'Oh gods I need to walk with them and stuff don't I,' He grimaced. Sure he knew it, but it hadn't occurred to him.

He really should've burnt this place to the ground when he got the chance.

Kedia seemed to be content with the arrangements and began walking out. Tyrael threw his hand out but quickly pulled it back, just barely stopping himself from calling out to her, asking if she could stay. But everyone already thought he was a child, and getting attached to strangers and throwing a tantrum when they inevitably left him wasn't exactly the mature thing to do.

But seriously. She just met him in the middle of nowhere. She didn't even know his name until a few minutes ago! How could he have thought that she'd, what, adopt him?

It was pathetic.

Carawin continued holding out his oversized hand for Tyrael to shake. The dark elf continued staring at him. Why was he kneeling? Was he trying to mock Tyrael?

The giant finally stood up and ordered some drink, presumably alcoholic, for he and Swallowtail. "Want anything?" he asked with an attempted wink. It failed horribly and ended up making him looking more like a possessed possum.

Tyrael shook his head firmly and even muttered a polite refusal, but the great being had already shoved a foul smelling mug almost the size of his head into the poor boy's face. Looking past it, Swallowtail and Carawin were already downing their own glasses – if the great things could even be addressed so gently – and moving onto seconds.

He put the mug down, feeling sick from just the smell, and ordered a small plate of food.

This wasn't going to be a fun little adventure. This was going to be hell.

a/n

5165 words

second chapter! how're we feelin?

question 2: who's your favorite character so far? choose anyone you'd like, even if you think they won't show up again, you never know ;)

see you next time!