so seek the wolf in thyself

Necromancer.

The word bounced around in Jon’s head, making his vision blurry as he processed the information. “Necromancer,” he repeated, muttering softly. Of course, his eyes glowed at the thought of a possible threat, the half-breed swallowing hard. “I-I don’t believe I’ve.. met a necromancer before. Not that I can remember. However, I’m sure I’ve crossed paths with one or two in my travels”

Being what he was, he was bound to meet creatures of all sorts as he traveled the world. He’s met dragons and nagas, centaurs and phoenixes. He supposed he shouldn’t be at all _surprised _at the presence of the necromancer before him.

“Most are rare,” He says nonchalantly, “Dealing with the dead isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.” It wasn’t like he’d woken up one day able to perform magic that summoned the dead either. Ryan had worked hard at his skill; ironically a healer once before, training a young apprentice in magic before tragedy had struck. “It’s a reputable trade, one with a negative connotation.”

A derisive snort, head nodding a bit in agreement. “Yes, you’re… Right in your assumptions.” A frown furrowed his brows as he studied the man before him, head cocked to the side. “There’s something about you,” the half-breed muttered, taking some steps forward to be closer to the man. A soft intake of breath, gaining a scent that made the younger man recoil some.

“You reek of death,” the half-breed said with an air of disgust. It wasn’t that he cared so much about death or killing - he just hated the smell. A rancid, overbearing scent that made his toes curl. “What are you. No human should smell this much of death.”

For anyone else, the idea that they ‘reek of death’ would probably offend them greatly but Ryan chooses to revel in it. His smirk grows twisted. Death was his specialty; it was what he was best at & he enjoys taking the moment to bask in the glow, albeit not a good one normally, that comes when others recognize that.

The word bounced around in Jon’s head, making his vision blurry as he processed the information. “Necromancer,” he repeated, muttering softly. Of course, his eyes glowed at the thought of a possible threat, the half-breed swallowing hard. “I-I don’t believe I’ve.. met a necromancer before. Not that I can remember. However, I’m sure I’ve crossed paths with one or two in my travels”

Ryan could smell bullshit from a mile away. He’d die if he couldn’t, being in the profession he chose. Of course, the choice to acknowledge that it was indeed bullshit wasn’t as easy to resolve. After a moment, his hands found Jon’s tentatively. If Jon was keeping secrets, Ryan wouldn’t force him to let them out. Hell knows he had his own to keep safe. 

Jon’s gaze flickered to the rag, a frown forming on his face. Shaking hands reached out, the half-breed being careful not to snag his nails on the fabric, and he took the rag. He brought it back to himself slowly, wiping off his face and hands as he stood slowly, keeping his gaze on the man.

“Why aren’t you afraid?” Jon asked after a moment, eyeing the stranger curiously. “A normal man would have tried to run like this one.” A boot nudged one mutilated arm, an indication to the fate of the homeless man. A normal man, the half-breed thought, would be dead where they stood by now.

Jon handed the rag back, making sure to not accidentally scratch the other.

Ryan was no normal man. Someone as desensitized to murder as he is unfazed by the sight. His job is to kill other humans for a price which makes him able to tolerate what had happened; he’s even curious considering that the one before him ate the other. Ryan hasn’t seen many magical beings for quite some time.

He was positive no one was around when he attacked. The moon’s pull was strong, and it wasn’t like he could run to a forest and hunt down a rabbit or two. No; he was in a dark alleyway when a homeless man became territorial.

It didn’t last long once the half-breed’s eyes glowed yellow, sending the homeless man into panic. He was easy to chase down, a quick snap to the neck and a bite to the jugular. Part of him was disgusted with himself - he had finally stooped so low that he needed human to sustain himself. But the other part was rabid with hunger.

He didn’t get a chance to prepare, to wipe off the blood from his hands and face, when a voice made the half-breed startle. He looked at a shadowy figure, shoulders hunching as he slowly moved backwards, lips curled up into a snarl. He should run, leave - this town was large enough that the news of a half-breed wouldn’t spread like it would at home. He watched the man, waiting a moment before speaking.

Like a panther, he made his way closer with calculated steps, prowess oozing from his being as he reached into his pocket for an old rag to offer to the other man. The blood would normally be an intoxicating smell if it hadn’t come from some homeless man. Still, the sight before him isn’t any less pretty. Ryan almost wants to reach out & wipe away the blood himself but stops himself.

“Why aren’t you afraid?” Jon asked after a moment, eyeing the stranger curiously. “A normal man would have tried to run like this one.” A boot nudged one mutilated arm, an indication to the fate of the homeless man. A normal man, the half-breed thought, would be dead where they stood by now.