@edtheterifying
Lorene had been wandering the Cotes Ward for a few days, so he'd become accustomed to meeting Spirits. The Pixies weren't everywhere, per se, but they were common enough that he was thanking every god he knew that he had long ago learned the proper decorum in speaking to and interacting with Spirits. You bowed to them, you didn't make eye contact, you didn't thank them or say any words that could open up a debt, and you spoke quietly and politely. Period. That covered most types of Spirits, too, regardless of their home cultures or the pantheon they associated themselves with.
But, naturally, having grown up in Mongol--a nation whose ancestry, while entirely Elven, originated from all over the Eastern half of the Eurasian continent--the first thing he learned were the ghost stories. Every child does. Every child is taught to be afraid of the dark, and why. The dark is hungry. The dark is unmerciful to unwary children.
So, when Lorene was just minding his own business, meandering through the Cotes Ward looking for something to nibble on for lunch, of course he recognized a jiangshi immediately.
The noise that came out of him as his ears pinned back against his head in fright was somewhere between a yelp and a screech; he hopped back a good five feet in one leap.
"OH my gods--!"
It took about a second for Lorene to remember his manners, his heart hammering in fear. He dropped into an excessively low bow, hands pinned to his sides.
"My apologies! I didn't see you there! Please excuse my bad manners!" Lorene wasn't aware of the universal translation magic present in Spirale, so the words came out in his native Canto Elvish (what natives of Earth called Cantonese Chinese).
