Of Sinners & Saints

ABEL (EDITED)

So, this is Metisagha. The man standing in the doorway was not a handsome man and judging by his misanthropic gaze Abel wondered if he was a nice man. Metisagha was quite tall, old and slightly hunched over. In one hand he had an old rifle in the other hand clutched a couple of dead rabbits. He had red eyes, but one eye was virtually closed. Metisagha had a bald pate with some white hair around the sides and back, the man also wore a long brown trench coat that was buttoned and covered in mud, he wore dark green combat pants and his black leather boots had seen better days. He also smelled rancid.

"Welcome home master," Rhian quickly greeted Metisagha respectfully. "How can - "

"Guests is it we have?" Metisagha said in an austere manner as he shook his head. Wet residue sprayed all around him. "Meaning of this?"

"I had no choice," Rhian quickly replied.

"Huh. . . you always have a choice you do Rhian, my old friend," Metisagha said as he left the gun by the door in a wooden rack usually used for umbrellas and then he dropped the rabbits to take off his heavy wet layers. He wore a coat under a coat, I guess he remained warm and somewhat dry. Then Metisagha picked up the rabbits and walked forward into the living room. Metisagha dropped the dead rabbits on the coffee table. There was a gamy smell emitting from them that rose up his nostrils. Metisagha stood before the log stove to warm himself up. Abel felt rather uncomfortable in this man's presence. "Woman!" Metisagha called out for Martha, this rudeness only exaggerated Abel's negative feelings toward him and he sat there with a scowl on his face.

"Yes Shug," Martha responded as she came back into the room. "Your back," she pointed out the obvious. She had been patiently waiting for the protein to add to the stew. She said so herself many times over.

"Aye, that I am," Metisagha replied, "and about time n all, been bucketing down. I need to change me clothes, so I do, I'm drenched - I am. Tell me, woman, is the stew ready?"

"Oh, just waiting for the meat dear," Martha replied politely. She pointed to the table at the rabbits. "That them shug?"

"I see you don't need glasses," Metisagha quipped. "Aye, that's them alright. Damn foxes and wild cats and other beasts must be reducing their numbers." Martha picked up the dead rabbits. "Skin em, chop em and make me my dinner." Metisagha rudely demanded.

"I know. I know," Martha sounded weak as she went back out to the kitchen humming a soft tune merrily to herself.

Metisagha then took a metal flask out from his pocket and took a drink. Abel was surprised when he was offered a drink and he gladly took a sip but spat it back out. "Ugh! That's rough," Abel said as he patted his tongue down with his fingers and palm. Why, the taste of dirt, sweat, and salt tasted better then what was in that flask.

Metisagha and Rhian both laughed as the flask was then passed to Rhian to take a drink. The badger could handle the potin better than Abel ever could. "That's a man drink," Metisagha remarked. "It will put hair on your chest boy." Metisagha's hostile eyes averted away from Abel and he gazed then at Rhian. "I bumped into your bird friend, so I did."

Rhian passed the flask back to his Metisagha who took another drink himself. "Who did you see on your travels?" The Manimal inquired.

"Who else hears everything before anything happens," Metisagha pointed out.

"Eh. . . Hooter?" Rhian guessed a name correctly, "and what news has Hooter heard?"

"Well, according to Hooter, the menace Firbolg the destructor has vanished into fat air if can you believe that. She has flown all around the cyclops patch and all that remains is a dying fire, corpse of a deer and some clothes or something or other. I didn't want to stay out in the rain longer than I had to and have a long drawn out conversation ya know."