Darelle

9

Rumpel packed up his things and placed them in his not really essential briefcase for the need of looking normal. Locking the case, he carried it down and lift it up with his bag before he made his out of the room he provided himself comfort.

After filling the room with infused spices and herbs to tame the provoking smell of human every night and morning. He was glad to leave the inn to a place he remembered to have the largest garden and be one with nature, again.

Willingly experimenting with her children to produce certain results that could be detrimental to a particular specie or would help repopulate a dying one on the blink of desperation and extinction. It was all good, he liked playing god anyways.

On his way down the stairs, he was blocked by someone wearing a black cloak. Backing up, he waited for the person to show forth their face which they did to reveal a woman with long dark tresses.

"What do you want?" he asked. He hasn't plan to see the witch with the toad mark from several nights ago, again.

But it turned out, she did.

"I came in search for something precious, and you."

That was it, he have had his patience, he sidestepped her and continued his way down to check out when she said a word. A name.

He turned to her and closed the distance. "Say that." he commanded.

The witch's new, potent magic provided her more cover in asking his question, but she happily answered on her own accord.

"Alejandra, my blood sister."

He was surprised to hear the name of the woman, who sheltered him at his lowest in the human world that would do anything to have his kind in their midst. From stripping them of their body parts to forcing them to cast spells of blessings.

He stepped forward until he breathed down on the witch. "I don't care if the blood hits you witches until it streams out every opening in your body. What did my friend tell you? Answer before I change the date for your blood death to this day."

"Quiet down, even the walls have ears. And you're still a fae at heart."

He didn't need her to tell or remind of the past when he still had his wings. "I'm sure you appreciate the need to talk. Speak like that again and I'll cut your tongue. Your powers means nothing in my diction." By all means, he was ready to push through with every threat. Believe him, when he meant every.

"Follow me," she said, and he did because of the sense of duty to someone he considered to be family.

He followed her down to settle his own account then made his way out to see her waiting for him. He stopped to look at the fancy red carriage behind her and its possible owner. He didn't want to think how she had such a thing.

She turned to him, noticing his distain for her possession. "Forgive me, I had a reckoning to the color. Blood is something that makes me boil. That completes me. Blood—"

"Blood is life." he completed.

She nodded her head, amused at his words. "Well, well, who knew." she purred.

He glared at her. "Yes, who knew a witch would be revolted by the very sight of blood."

A frown deepened her lovely pale face. "I was shocked, I didn't meant to cause that amount of blood. I was triggered by those men nonsense chatters and wish and you know what a witch's thought put to manifestation." she lifted her chin and used her hand filled with precious stone rings to push her hair from her front neck.

He stepped up to her and leaned against her ears. "You can't lie to me or deceive me. You know next to nothing about magic. And I pray that was your last mistake. From your voice, I take it to you're a opera singer from Dolor . . . no, no . . . Eitherea. Yes. Maybe, a mistress . . ." Her breath hitched and brought a sadistic smile to his face. "Yes, a mistress." he affirmed as her expression handed him his answers on a golden platter.