A boy in the shadows

“Trust me child, even if the Boogeyman came near me, my magic would be more powerful than his..” He rolled his multicolored eyes.

".... I doubt that, but then again I can't really, can I?" He never saw this man's magic, nor had he seen exactly how powerful his father was. 

“What exactly is a young child like you doing out alone this late?” He asked, a crystal appearing in his palm.

"Exactly what it looks like, walking." Hunter was cautious, watched the crystal in the man's hand with faint interest, though it was much greater than it appeared to be.  "And what are you doing out in the dark? The boogeyman could get you." And of course that wasn't all too untrue, though his father he assumed was plenty busy giving children nightmares as he spoke. 

Jareth leaned against the wall of a back alley, spotting the small child looking at him. “Hello there child… I am Jareth, the Goblin King..” He raised an eyebrow.

"You don't look much like a Goblin." But just because he was the 'king of Goblin's' didn't mean he was one, but Hunter couldn't be sure or not, he'd never met a Goblin.  "My name's Hunter." 

"Oh, I see." So he was probably retired, and probably from a different country then? Maybe the united kingdom, somewhere in Europe maybe.  

Hunter paused for a moment, but took the hand and shook it.  "I didn't know general's came to small towns often." The boy stated, bringing his hand down to his side.  "I thought they stayed on the bases." Hunter himself only knew about the army from his uncle, who answered his nephew's curious questions.  The lively side of the boy only came out around his uncle now-a-day's, he was a good man, his wife? She wasn't a pleasant woman, she was rude and Hunter hated her.

The general smile widened as he took a seat next to the boy. “I am General Kozmotis Pitchiner.” he told the other. “And who are you?” 

"A general? For the army maybe?" There was an air base in Minnesota, but most of the times the big army planes only came to pick up soldiers that stayed on the base here, it wasn't too big, but the planes still came and went every now and then.  "Hunter, Hunter Samson." He introduced. 

"Claus? Interesting." First Frost, damn that kid to hell-- his brother wasn't bad-- but Wyatt could preferably just stay away, or they were bound to have issues, both were far too much like their fathers sometimes to get along.  "I'm Hunter Samson." He introduced. 

❄ || ”To each their own, huh?” Jack returns the smile with his own— a sympathetic one, however. He could understand the dwindling interest in books throughout recent generations; it was sorrowful, almost, the lacking imagination and appreciation for the printed word. This young boy was an adorable bookworm, one that reminded him of another not long ago.

"I think they're just lazy, relying on TV to give them an adventure when they can read about one, or go have their own." Half the time the books Hunter read reminded him of his own situation.  Percy Jackson, son of a god, son of a mortal.  To him he saw similarities, and that's why he loved those books so much.

"Who are you?" The dark haired boy questioned after a moment's pause, eyes showing a bit of hesitance.  So far Hunter saw no danger from the blond, that was a good sign for him.