be gilded

    𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘  in  looking  over  one’s  shoulder  is  familiar,  but  he  resists  looking  sympathetic  &  simply  keeps  up  lax  smile.  he  doubted  this  one  needed  the  pity.  he  affords  a  once  over  in  turn,  head  tilting  just  so  in  a  plainly  curious  gesture.  certainly  younger  than  he  was  …  brow  raises  at  explanation  given,  idly  scratching  at  his  jaw  in  thought.  

    ❝  pages,  huh?  magic  pages.  ❞  yeah,  saying  it  out  loud  doesn’t  quite  help  him  wrap  his  head  around  it.  he  shrugs  to  himself  ;  magic  that  he  was,  his  understanding  went  only  as  far  as  his  own  abilities  —  –  &&  even  then,  that  was  awful  limited  even  after  all  these  years.  ❝  i’ve  gone  after  my  fair  share  o’  magic  things,  but  mostly  'cause  i  was  paid  to.  ❞  at  the  question  for  introduction,  he  gives  a  short  laugh.

      ❝  Right,  yeah,  a  name  helps.  Figure  you’re  wonderin’  all  why  I’m  lendin’  a  hand.  The  name’s  Twisted  Fate.  ❞  hat  is  tipped  alongside  a  playful  bow.  ❝  Fate  works,  or  T.F  if  you’re  picky.  I’ve  been  gettin’  into  chases  with  all  manner  o’  men  'cause  they  can’t  handle  losin’,  so  I  suppose  I  just  couldn’t  resist  steppin’  in,  especially  for  someone  who  don’t  much  look  like  he  belongs  here.  Bilgewater’ll  eat  you  right  up  if  you’re  not  careful.  ❞

              ‘   Twisted ... Fate.   Right.   Um,   you can just call me Camael.   ‘   The skepticism in his voice is stifled—he’s not used to the amount of people here who have ... noun-centric names.   As for the latter part of his comment,   Camael huffs and slumps his shoulders,   turning his gaze to the floating tome beside him.   ‘   Bilgewater probably wouldn’t have been my first choice but I was promised the pickings here would be easy with the help of ‘ immense arcane magic ‘ that I have yet to see YOU use.   ‘ 

             The books rolls his eye in turn.   ‘   What use would I have for a mage if I could cast my own spells?   I was under the impression that your wits would suffice in a place like this,   but it seems I was mistaken as well.   ‘

        ‘   Yeah?   You wanna see wits?   Well here’s a bright fucking idea—   ‘   Without warning Camael snatches the tome out of the air and stuffs him into his bag and locking the clasp.  

               From inside the pair make out a muffled:   ‘   ... Point taken.   I am willing to forgive this transgression given the events of today.   ‘

【 ♚ 】 ——  ❛ @aureatetome​ ❜

     “Do tell me, are you one of the locals here, or are you passing through as well?” Usually not so sociable while outside of his realm, but after having a little bit to drink Infernum found it rather difficult not to chat up a stranger or two.

     This little town was teeming with inhuman creatures and fiends alike, so he did not bother to disguise himself as a mortal. And though he avoided dressing expensively while out of the Kingdom he still seemed to have an air of importance around him, posture straight as an arrow and chest proudly puffed. Devilish in nature, a grin dressed his lips as he awaited a reply.

           There was nothing about Camael that invited attention in a crowded tavern—he just wanted to have a drink while pouring over new spells and enjoying the ambiance of other people’s conversation.   Normally he would have been more polite to someone approaching him as well,   but his glass was drained enough for his initial response to be a drawn out,   confused look. 

@aureatetome  liked  for  a  oneliner.

      ❝  𝐈  𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓  𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  time  for  strays,  kid.  ❞

   for someone visibly scared he also deems it important to argue.

     pale skin,   unnatural eyes,   something just sort of  ghoulish  about him in a way difficult to place,   standing outside under an overcast sky,   all of it almost reminds Camael of—

                   𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘   enough, doesn’t it ??  just walk out and leave, find somewhere else to make their … honest living. maybe in truth it is that simple, but as graves sighs a thoughtful cloud of smoke from betwixt lips, he finds it hard to SEE it that way.   ❝  …  i  dunno.  i  mean,  i  have  left  before.  fate  ‘n  i  been  all  over  this  rock,  ‘n  some  ‘a  those  places  ain’t  half  bad  ―  but  i  ain’t  never  fit  in  with  none  of  it.  piltover,  ionia,  demacia  …  just  ain’t  nothin’  like  bilgewater.  ❞

         a thoughtful pause, fingers drumming against his chin.   ❝  TRUTH  is,  i’d  go  anywhere  he  asked  me  to.  don’t  tell  him  i  said  that.  but,  yknow  …  if  it  ain’t  broke,  don’t  fix  it.  ❞