picks and thorns

When he spoke of the main kingdom, he spoke of Erulia. And of his father and stepmother. Could that be the reason Malcolm came to him. Though Lucas was lucky enough to live here in castle Aysel, any word that ever got to him about something the King or Queen has done angered him.

Still, despite the exiled prince's insistence that all within the castle are loyal to him, Malcolm keeps his silence until the tea has been served.

Once they are alone again, he speaks.

"Like most in Erulia, I am well aware of the king and queen's cruelty. Could benefit from it, too, if I simply do as I am expected. But I cannot turn a blind eye to it. The people of the kingdom deserve far better."

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Large iced coffee and- Our scones are to die for, darling, I'd get some of those and maybe a muffin. We have some fantastic muffins. ❞

They stand upright so they can gesture to the display case with their good arm, their smile never once faltering. A claw like nail tapping on the top of it once they've walked over to stand behind it.

"Rhubard or Lemon Poppy Seed...?" he asks, more thinking aloud than asking them this time. "I'm used to having rhubarb mixed in with strawberries for desserts, but, sure, I'll give that a try. And throw in the other muffin, too. Might as well treat myself since it sounds real good."

"But hey, they clearly set up the whole house to a degree." They gesture at the decor still strewn in the room. "Maybe we just need to walk through or something. Treat it like a haunted house but like... play it up a little bit." They couldn't be sure just yet, but spirits like these usually were born from a want for something slowly amassing over time, if they weren't created from experiences that were more intense and emotional and often negative. Similar to ghosts, they could let go if they achieved whatever it was that formed them, as long as that was possible.

"...I actually did things like that back then, so it shouldn't be too hard."

Malcolm's been both the meddling kid and the one trying to give others a scare, at one point or another. It was a more innocent, ignorant time in his life. It was a time he should have appreciated more than he did then.

He sighs, only for the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk as he looks the spirit right in its glowing eyes. "Alright, kid, give this your best shot."

Leofric often visited places by himself when he wanted to get a better sense of them too. Bill collected an empty glass that had been handed to him by another patron. After asking if they wanted the same again and getting an affirmative, he started to refill it.

It would keep him busy for a few seconds.

"Sketching and painting mainly," Leofric said, "As I said, I am hardly a professional though, just as an enthusiast."

"But that doesn't change the fact that he's damn good at it," Bill said, with a smile. It seemed like he was done with that drink, "Go on, show him your newest sketch."

"If you insist," Leofric said. With that, a sketchpad was removed from his coat, and Leofric carefully flipped to the latest one, before turning it so Malcolm could see.

"With all due respect, I'm calling bullshit on this just being a hobby," he says, glancing back up at Leofric. "There are professionals who rarely do work this detailed... How long have you been drawing stuff like this?"

Considering the impression this man gives off, he has a feeling it's been a while. He also might not get a direct answer, if it's a touchy subject.

The sticky arachnids jiggle on the floor where they land, very ominously. Artair stares at the gummy things, blinking. The spirit tosses one more for good measure, a black one that's slightly larger than the rest with googly red eyes and a flocking of faux hair.

"...We need to go along with it, don't we?" he asks, bordering on being deadpan.

It's not that he thinks he's above pretending to be scared make a child — or child-like entity, in this case — happy, but there's still a part of him that's struggling with the idea. He's just awkward with kids in general.