dark magic does not elude omen, but it is something he tends to stay away from. calloused hands are meant to heal, to help, and though they have also seen violence, it is not something omen would be proud of. he has saved monsters from peril, but has killed many, too. he cannot save everyone, nor is everyone worthy of saving, much to his disappointment. the demons and dark things he has crossed do not compare to the being the walks toward the small garden at the back of the apothecary. omen pauses as he prunes one of the deadly plants that grows there, only turning when he feels the other approaching at his back. 'good morning, lucy,' omen's voice is calm and quiet, the man standing as they come face to face. 'to what do i owe the pleasure?' @allevils.

the crossing of paths has not yet left either of the entities in harm or destruction, and omen would opt to keep it that way. he had no reason to provoke verna, nor had she any reason to do the same to him. their was a mutual respect between the beings, something the witch was grateful for. inside of his apothecary, omen bottles several mixes of herbs and plants, wearing black gloves as not to touch certain poisonous fauna, when the bell above the door alerts him to a visitor. the scent death, nearly sweet, meets his nose, and the witch inhales quietly, never looking up from his task. 'i didn't realize i would be visited by a friend, tonight,' lip quirks just so, omen corking one of the small bottles and setting it aside before he finally looks up at verna. 'this is a friendly visit, isn't it?' @waested.