#cryptidmerc

     “And I suppose I’m not a bad man,” he mocked, moving to rest his arms on the table before him. “Why make such a ludicrous claim, dear boy? We both know what mercenaries do, after all.”

        ‘...are you lost?’ there was a BOYISH exuberance to the young man’s voice as he entered the boiler room that was steamier than usual-- after all, it was the winter and he had a lot of UPKEEP making sure the entire building didn’t freeze. it was rare that they were looking for milo thatch, the LINGUIST and atlantis expert, but rather the plumber milo thatch.

{ r U I N  T H E  C H I L D

“It’s really not very… very pleasant in here, is it?” Dewey asked, walking into the room that had been tucked away behind the bookshelf. “I mean, I’m sure it was lovely in its prime, but now…” Now it was rather a feast for spiders and dust motes. The entire room, from the light fixtures to the once-beautiful coffee table, was coated in a look of agedness and decay. 

“Then what is it about?” Dewey asked, narrowing his eyes. “There’s only so much information I can readily give away before we start delving into things that ought never see the light of day. And if we’re being perfectly honest,” he glanced behind him, making sure the suspicious-looking cactus in their field of vision was just a cactus and not anything sinister or malevolent. “I don’t know what you’re asking of me.”