Though the gesture was hidden in Frore's shadow, Cain blinked incredulously. That was it..? No scathing comments about Jira's fashion sense, no real further instruction, just a quick departure. To be fair, Lethe had just plowed face-first into the masked man's chest. Though, given Cain's understanding of physics, lighter things suffered less kinetic damage when tossed or thrown. He had figured as much out on his own in the Twilight Realm, finding through trial and error that he could throw a little Gohma over a hundred feet only for it to skitter away unharmed but a simple trip was enough to force the wind out of the lungs of an armored opponent. Maybe it worked differently for fairies; truly, he didn't care that much.

What really interested him was that Lethe seemed to already be delegating him tasks in her stead and trusting him to carry them out. This wasn't surprising given the facts: he had been the first 'One' she had come into contact with capable of higher thought, he had already found Izzaz for her, and by now she was probably aware of his intelligence. Still, it was good news. Being put in a position of responsibility and power in the group would make it that much easier for him to further his own agenda. At this point, he doubted that was the case, but he was almost certainly on the road to authority.

In that spirit, he wasted little time in reminiscing and hurried to direct the Rain Spider. Deciding that he might as well show him his full-bodied form seeing as everyone else had already seen it, Cain rose from his slender partner's shadow and floated in the air nearby. Now fully three-dimensional, the Twili addressed him properly. “The pixie that just checked you out is called Lethe. As far as we can tell, she is the one responsible for speaking in our dreams. I assumed she would introduce you but it seems that task has fallen to me. I can't remember if I told you my name, so it's Cain, and here we have Magus, Veitaru somewhere, and...er...a Sheikah.” He was suddenly and painfully aware that he had no clue what the Sheikah's name was, nor what they were all meant to be doing here. Even the exact location of the Shadow Temple the fairy had alluded to eluded him. If Lethe had given any more exposition, he had been absent—accomplishing things in Kakariko while she fluttered around and talked.

“And here we have Frore,” he held out a shadowy, immaterial hand in his partner's direction. Hearing her name, the former Chilfos looked first at him and then at the new arrival, still not fully understanding what Jira had said. Moments ago Cain had, funnily enough, wondered whether or not Jira would fall in love at first sight with her too. While he said that he would be sticking to Felicia, as best Cain could guess, the masked man still seemed to have an interest in Frore. Having seen Jira's unmasked face at the stall of the deceitful pot seller, he could easily picture a twisted, surprised expression contorting it after finding out that the woman was really an ice monster. As he made the present members of the team known to the Rain Spider, he acknowledged for the first time what a hodgepodge of a group it was. A fairy, a girl, a shadow, a scarecrow, a vanguard, a rogue, and now a lover and a vendor. This rundown reminded him that Felicia would be starting up the graveyard path any second now, and without Lethe around it would be necessary to bring her up to speed as well. Cain pondered if all this explanation was why the fairy seemed so wound-up.

“Regrettably it seems like I have even more errands to run. Hopefully the historian can fill you in on anything I missed.” With that, Cain returned to shadowform and set off down the graveyard trail once more. In no time he was at the bottom, having jumped from fencepost to dusty fencepost, and was greeted with a strange sight. A huge, armored brute sat against the gates, chowing down on a large slab of meat. Strange; only moment ago, when he and Jira had arrived, this warrior had been nowhere to be seen. Though he still wore a helmet, Cain got a good view of the knight's mouth beneath the upturned visor, and what he saw warranted a closer search. Despite his affinity for darkness, Cain couldn't see enough of the knight's face to identify him, though he certainly wasn't Hylian. Was this yet another 'One'? There's seldom such a thing as coincidence. He was debating on how to approach the feasting knight when he spotted Felicia a hundred feet away. This, he surmised, was a stroke of misfortune. Even if Felicia and the knight ignored each other completely, he might just intimidate her enough to keep her from entering the graveyard. Opting to wait and see, Cain nevertheless noted that (since there were few people around) grabbing Felicia with his hair hand and simply carrying her the rest of the way was an option as a last resort.

If Maryev was paying attention to anything but his savory meal, he might have heard a bored sigh nearby, or seen Felicia approaching.

“Oh, so you’re no longer a Sheikah, are you not?”
Veitaru didn't seem all that surprised by the exchange, but neither was her face completely impassive. She listened patiently to the two banter back and forth.

“Byyye!”
Veitaru watched the unfolding sketch with bemusement now.

“Fine, fine… but I am not ‘tricky’. I’m crafty, like a fox.”
Veitaru glanced upward, her eyes in that traditional corner of the eye for remembering, "Tricky as a fox" she commented, with that quoting something tone of voice. "Yeah, that's what the fairy said.

“Tell me… could you lead us to this first fairy you spoke of?”

"Yuuuup." Veitaru gave her nicest shark smile, and turned to start jogging for the graveyard It'd be a nice power walk for the two of them.

“They would have robbed you, hurt, otherwise taken advantage of you and perhaps killed you. Attacking others -not to mention being the hero- isn't like me, but that was justified. I'm glad I could help.”

Well, by all means, don’t hold back. The blatantly non-sugarcoated explanation of exactly what could have happen put quite a damper on Felicia’s mood and confidence. She was all the more grateful and all, but did she really want to be going along with this? Hadn’t paling around with that masked merchant gotten her into enough trouble?

Felicia mulled over such thoughts as she continued walking. She could feel the blood draining from her face as the sign overlooking the graveyard gate came into view; peering at her over the writhing crowd of bodies. The sound of pots clanging and heavy footsteps sounded behind her and her frown only intensified. There went the king of crazy… was she seriously following him?

“Thanks for the ride. See you there.”

Felicia sighed in relief as she watched Cain flit away after him.

Now’s your chance, she thought to herself, Just turn around. Go!

She mentally shook her head and kept walking. No, she’d told the ghost she would help and, although she wasn’t entirely sure about whether or not there was a code of honor amongst the dead, she was keen on keeping her word. Just a peek, she promised herself, If it seems too dangerous I’ll leave. Simple as that. Right on cue and as if they had a will of their own, her feet stopped moving. Rooted in place, she watched a mammoth of a man sitting near the entrance. His features were mostly obscured by the shade of the gate he sat up against and a nearby tree-- but she could see well enough.

Quite savage, indeed.

Her lips curled in horrified disgust as the man, garbed in armor that was unlike that of any knight she’d ever seen, tore into a hulking slab of raw meat. She took a step backwards, her eyes darting between the stranger and the entrance. Just when it seemed she was about to turn tail and walk in the opposite direction, Felicia quickly edged around the stranger as if he were surrounded by a force field that was at least ten feet in diameter. She then made a dash towards the gate. She was lighter on her feet than one would think. Hoping to elude the worryingly ravenous man, she slipped into the graveyard in almost complete silence—aside from the creaking of the gate as she shoved it open.

Despite Veitaru’s seemed haste, Zephyrus made no efforts to keep her pace.
He followed at his own, leisurely tempo, a good few feet behind her: “The sea need not rush to meet the shore,” he’d reasoned.
Archer walked in his shadow, arms folded as he accompanied his brother in silence… or at least, that had been the plan, anyway.
“I’m ignoring you, by the way,” Archer had eventually informed his older sibling.
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything? Like sorry, maybe.”
Zephyrus contemplated this for a moment, “I was enjoying the peace.”

Archer paused, frowned for a few long moments, and then relented and chuckled lightly.
“You’re a pain, you know that?”
“One day you’ll learn that not every problem can be solved by bitterness. If I teach you one thing, let it be that.”
“Yeah, well… being a push over won’t help anything, either.”
“And I am neither, nor,” Zephyrus assured him, before turning back to look at Veitaru, and readjusting his scarf.
“I try to adapt to every new situation, there is no guaranteed path. To achieve success, we must-”
“Let me guess: Be like water?”
Zephyrus nodded sagely.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m more of a ‘flaming fists’ type of guy.”

Zephyrus shook his head, “One day you will understand that the water is a metaphor. The same could be said of air: It’s all about being malleable. Violence will not resolve every situation.”
“But neither will playing it peaceful!”
“And that is why I carry a weapon.”
“… ah,” Archer nodded, “Speak softly and carry a big stick. I can get behind that.”
“If, indeed, that is how you must view it.”
“Haha, look at me: I’m a veritable zen-guy. When do I get my guandao?”
“… perhaps you should go back to ignoring me, brother.”
“Can do!”
The two lapsed back into silence, and continued on their path to the graveyard.

As Zephyrus had decided not to keep pace, as he turned back to look at Veitaru, she was no longer in sight. Quick moving crowds made taking your eye off someone you were following from an ever growing distance a debatable choice. Especially when that person was short enough that it only took a single interposed person to completely block line of sight.

"They certainly know the way to the Graveyard.." As soon as Veitaru had lost them, she veered off the path to the graveyard to continue her own mission. "I wonder if they're married, they bicker like it. They can't stop talking to each other for more than a second or two at a time." She was mumbling to herself to think out-loud. She found that generally, if you said what you were thinking, the really stupid stuff would sound more obvious. Unfortunately for, her, still no guarantee that you'd catch it.

"Mmm.. Wonder if stupid shadow guy managed to catch more than me... I guess it's not a contest.." She continued her search for a girl with a fairy.

Angus sighed and shook his head as the person turned away, the smith set off back to his stall stopping along the way to bend down and comfort the child who had been pushed over with a pat on the shoulder. "Enjoy the rest of the fair kiddo, here." He took a few lose rupees from his pocket and handed them to the child. "Go and get yourself one of those hero's caps and forget about that bully."

Standing back up to his full height Angus turned to face his stall, noticing that Ekra had taken out what looked like some sort of blow pipe he haves his hands up and down asking her to put it away. "It's ok, not gonna' be any fights today." He laughed a little as he reached the stall and took the claymore off his back, putting it back on the display table. "That fella's just a little unfamiliar with how things are done around here, hopefully we won't have any more problems with him." Heading back around behind the stall he once again leant forward. "That's an interesting little tool you've got there." He smiled, indicating to what he could now see was her flute. "You know many good songs?"

Watching the two men depart away from each other let out his breath. The taller of the two bought meat and left in a rumbling growl noise, possibly a laugh or excited noise nil thought, a terrifying figure through and through. The other of the large pair went to a stall that seated a child wearing a keaton mask with a flute, this man seemed far more amiable than the other man as he spoke to the child.

Nil thoroughly distracted from his original errand went to the opposite side of the street and through another nearby alleyway that ended a few feet in at a wall. Leaning with his back against the wall, Nil slid down to a sitting position breathing a fair bit easier now that he wasn’t about to get into a mess of trouble. He really shouldn’t even be walking around if he was supposed to be getting into trouble, the less he moved the easier it would be to get through today and leave tomorrow. He wanted no part in whatever might happen, but he would see this day through if not to prove the whisper wrong.

With that decided Nil once again pulled out his drawing pad and began to sketch out the alleyway to calm his nerves and pass the time. No one would look here and no one was actively searching for him so this was the perfect spot to simply wait out the day. and if someone was searching for him and they actually found him then he could just blink to the other side of the wall, Nil thought. The thought prompted him to look up and behind him at the wall, at least he hoped he could blink to the other side of the wall. Last time he tried to blink a stick from one side of a tree to the other he’d managed to make a new branch on the tree.

Physically, Magus didn't seem to react to the world around him. For all intents and purposes he might as well have been a corpse hidden under black robes for all the care he offered the world around him.

Internally, he was rather overcome with curiosity.

Since the moment he had taken his seat, Magus had been assaulted with a feeling of dread... of not belonging or being welcome here... It was a feeling he was very used to, since this world was not his own nor was he welcome in it. But as he seemed to adept to the stronger than normal feelings of not belonging, he couldn't help but ponder why he felt these feelings in the shadow of what he was told was the Shadow Temple of Hyrule.

As a being of shadow and darkness himself, Magus suspected that what he got was merely a slap on the wrist compered to what the standard light dwelling must have felt when coming to this place... but why did it lash out at him at all? Light and Darkness were not inherently good or evil. In fact, out of the two Darkness tended to be the more welcoming and peaceful since it embraced all equally while the Light judged and either chased away or burned what it deemed unworthy to bask in its glow.

So why would a place dedicated to Shadows be so actively hostile to all who came towards it?

Too many possibilities, not enough information to narrow it down.

The merchant listened to what the shadow had to say with a bit of a silly grin under his mask. Then as he left and the Rain Spider was acquitted to his own devices. Jira took the time to look around without any particular interest. He'd slept in spookier places before, even a few haunted ones if his need for shelter was far too great. His green eyes swept over the array of faces in mild fascination. These characters... they were so strange. So unlike him. He had to consider why he was here. What in the grand scheme of things could he possibly mean to this world? Would he be a grand hero? The idea of this, to be an elegant participant in the grandeur of legends, left Jira raw with the emotion of the pressure that came with such an honorable responsibilty.

For about 5 seconds.

Then he plopped down on his ass with a shrug and pulled out his lute to practice as he waited for something to happen.

“Hmm,” Cain grunted in some degree of approval at Felicia's actions. Though her cowardice -or wise caution, maybe- was plain in her stone-gray eyes, it appeared that she had noticed just how engrossed the knight was in his meal and decided that he wouldn't notice her slink past. After doing just that and slipped through the gates, the young fishmonger was on her way to the graveyard. She still had a solid minute or two before she crested the slight, dusty incline and officially entered the cemetery grounds. In that time, Cain concluded that he would turn his attention to the brute sitting before him.

Unnoticed, the Twili melded with the Darknut's shadow. This particular variety was unknown to him, much like the Garo encountered about an hour before. Such a feeling of unfamiliarity was enough evidence to rule that this hungry knight was not Hylian, Ordonian, Sheikah, Goron, Zora, Gerudo, or any other standard race. In fact, Cain felt a similar twinge to those he experienced within the shadows of monsters. Monsters, though, didn't act like this, despite the voracity of the knight's indulgence. Where had he seen this creature before...? He racked his brain, not wanting to waste valuable time. It didn't take Cain long to give up. Perhaps this truly was a novel experience; the next course of action was to make the most of it.

Emitting a whimsical noise, Cain popped up from Maryev's shadow and assumed half-bodied form beside him. At the rate the knight was going, the slab of mutton would be gone in only a few seconds. Cain chose to wait until Maryev had licked the final few morsels from the gleaming white bone and tossed it aside with a satisfied belch. The bone landed in the outstretched, radiant orange palm of Cain's hair hand. Though weaker in sunlight, the magic within his locks was still strong enough to be solid. They held it to eye-level, allowing the phantom to inspect it. “Very impressive appetite," he remarked. "I'll wager the Hylians would think you're some sort of ravenous wolf, you eating like that. Of course, I'm no Hylian either, so I wouldn't exactly know.”

The silhouette of a feminine individual cast itself over Nil’s sketchbook.

“Wowza, you’re really good, sweetheart,” a lush woman’s voice observed, “How long have you been drawin’? I’d pay some good money for a portrait."

Taking his eyes off the paper, Nil would find himself in the presence of a woman with lightly tanned skin and beautifully voluminous, flowing shoulder-length dark brown hair. Her sharp hazel eyes were heavily outlined to exaggerate her prominent, almond shaped eyes and long eyelashes. They stared intently at Nil, sweeping hungrily over his features. She wore a lipstick that was a shameless shade of red and large, bangle-sized silver earrings on her slightly pointed ears. Her features were soft yet defined with high cheekbones, high arching eyebrows, and full lips.

On her body she wore a skin tight off-white blouse with a deep green silk scarf and a matching gypsy skirt—very much in the holiday spirit. She was shapely and well endowed—baring the body and features of a fully matured woman; undeniably beautiful, if a little over-the-top. The silver bracelets around her wrist released a musical sound as she pointed to his sketch pad.

"Do you do nudes?" she asked, smiling amusingly and placing her opposite hand on the exposed cleavage of her right breast. She laughed as his face changed, tossing her hair over her shoulders.

"I'm only kiddin', sweetheart. But it's true I am lookin' for an artist wit' your kinda skills if you're interested. I can pay ya handsomely for it, too."

While he was loathed to let anyone have the pleasure of distracting him from his meal, Maryev couldn’t help but notice even the graveyard had a high rate of foot traffic passing by, including a young Hylian girl who wisely gave him a wide berth and more importantly never attempted conversation. Did people have no respect for the dead, he wondered. Not that he particular cared for some long dead and rotting Sheikah corpses, if he remembered correctly from his studies in his youth, but he had specifically chosen to loiter by the graveyard in the off chance that the people in Kakariko had some form of standards of decency and would leave him in peace.

Alas, luck was not on his side, and the people of Hyrule were just as shitty as ever. He finished his meal and tossed the bone and last sinews of flesh into the bush somewhere, where perhaps a small child would choke to death on it. He sighed contentedly. That was the fullest meal he’d had in days, and he didn’t have to scavenge it.
Suddenly, a feeling of unease crept over Maryev and he looked up and around cautiously, mindful of the sword and shield resting at his side. Perhaps the proximity of the graveyard was giving him thoughts of Poes or ghosts or other such nonsense, but this felt like much more than a childish spook of the imagination. This felt like standing on the battlefield and wondering if the enemy had an archer trained on you that very moment. The Darknut knew the odds of that here were unlikely, unless those cheap balsawood bows he had seen children running around shooting wadded arrows pitifully about 5 meters at their fellow runts were far more lethal than expected.

As if his mind were capitalizing on his unease, something caught the corner of his eye like an apparition appearing. He grunted, shut his eyes to give them a moment’s reprieve and then looked over where he had seen the apparition of his imagination.

What he saw was decidedly not imaginary, not unless the mutton was drugged with hallucinogenic, which would handily explain why people seemed to be enjoying the dreadful festival. It was also now that he realized that the bone he threw was now being held aloft by what looked like an orange hand of hair. What did the butcher sell him? If he were sober enough, he’d march back and demand answers and potentially more of his wares. Maryev’s ghost decided to speak then, immediately ruling out the hallucination theory. This one was far too lucid.

“Do you make it a habit to sneak up on people and then fondle their scraps?” Maryev demanded. “And any plain fool can see you aren’t Hylian, or at least aren’t now. So tell me, specter, why have you decided to rub my refuse all over yourself and interrupt me? I have a difficult enough time tolerating things I am able to hurt. It remains to be seen if you fit into that category.” He thought about the way the ghost phrased something. “So. You figured out the obvious that eludes most of these people that I’m not one of them. Now why don’t you go bother that blacksmith down the hill? Him and his child deserve a good spook. I am not interested.”

Cain watched as Maryev went through the standard routine of trying to figure out whether he was a ghost, a living being, or a hallucination. He was gratified to find that Maryev was made of sterner stuff than any of those he had been tasked to find as of yet when he addressed him openly. If the Twili were more appreciative of humor, he might have very well burst out laughing when the Darknut questioned why he was holding the discarded bone. As it was, he simply rolled his eyes. Another big ego. At least this one may have earned it. After the knight had finished, Cain sent the bone flying away with a simple flick of his ethereal orange finger. Judging by Maryev's mannerism, he would be unimpressed by any wheedling or attempts at manipulation. No rambling about destiny or a voice in his dreams would convince him to haul his titanic rear to the Shadow Temple. The direct approach was in order.

The glow faded away and became intangible once more. “You cannot hurt me now. I doubt you could lay a hand on my even in my full form, but I'm not here for a pissing contest. I've interrupted you sitting on your ass and stuffing your belly to offer you employment. You've already done half the work just coming to Kakariko; you just need to continue into the graveyard up the path here. Might be obvious that you're not Hylian, but it's not so obvious that you're an outcast, is it? You need this.” Cain desperately hoped that his guess was correct. Maryev's pride, hostility, and bearing indicated he was a great warrior, but having never seen one of his kind before, Cain guessed they were far afield. A one-of-a-kind knight on his own in a land full of people he clearly despised made the Twili think that he wasn't here of his own volition.

Not giving Maryev a chance to respond or test his statement about not being able to hurt him, Cain breezily continued. “Think it over, soldier. I'll be waiting there to fill you in; or, you could terrorize the village. Your call.”

In front of the Darknut's eyes, Cain dissolved into shadow once more, and retraced his steps up the graveyard path after Felicia. He arrived just in time to join the girl as she crested the incline and saw the collection of people there for the first time.

The sound of lute strings being plucked greeted her as the cemetery came into sight. Felicia looked over the many graves—their long shadows reaching out to her. She thought of Cain and wondered if he could be hiding in any of them. Focusing more on Jira, she noticed that the pale hungry woman she’d seen in passing at the well was there… and that Jira’s lute playing... needed work. Her eyes flickered to the shady back of the graveyard—she thought she’d seen a figure lurking in the shadows, but she merely sighed and shook her head. The Shadow Temple had a way of messing with your head and tricking your eyes. She’d concluded long ago that the place was sentient and reveled in watching people racked with pain and sorrow—thus why it overlooked the cemetery.

With an uneager sigh she stepped near Jira. ’How can you be practicing your lute at a time like this?’ she wanted to say, but opted for something politer instead; as was her nature. She cleared her throat, hoping he would cease playing long enough for her to ask him, “So... uhm. What's going on? This is where we meet?"

She didn't know what else to say as she looked between the masked man and the pale woman.

Ekra exhaled slowly, sounding a bit like a deflating balloon, as the bigger, unknown being finally decided to leave. She really didn't want to see him ever again. Her knees felt a bit wobbly – everything did, now that she wasn't worrying. She forgot about the flute and Deku seeds until the blacksmith returned – yeah. Okay. She tucked the seeds back into her back and allowed herself to sit down on the counter's edge. She slid off, towards the back of the stall counter and leaned against it until everything stopped trembling. “Hope so. I don't think he was an actor. Might've been what they were referring to, but dunno what I could do about that.” Was that too much information? Though what could he do with it? Call her crazy?

A possibility, but she doubted it. She'd barely known about the festival.

Then he asked about the flute. Well. She knew songs – most were nameless, tunes invented by herself or other skull kids. A handful had been given by others. One though... the man said it was good for calming people. Couldn't hurt. She nodded a bit and lifted her mask enough to touch the flute's hole to her beak, and she began to play.

Maryev wordlessly listened to what the ghost had to say. He inwardly smiled a grim bit of satisfaction. You cannot hurt me now. I doubt you could lay a hand on my even in my full form, but I'm not here for a pissing contest. the ghost had said. It was so sure of its superiority it looked down upon everything else, even letting slip something as vital as the fact it possessed a corporeal form. It could be hurt, or killed. It just had to present itself. Maryev didn’t point out the ghost’s blunder, content to let it tell itself it was secure and untouchable. The Darknut would play the part until it exposed itself, if need be, and show it the error of its arrogance. It wasn’t a matter of if it could be harmed now; it was a matter of when and how. Those answers would come in time, if it so chose to continue harassing him.

He turned his thoughts to what the ghost was proposing. Some form of employment? The thought was repugnant, working for something less than him. He was not a common sellsword, he was a proud warrior and a noble, a man of status. Since when was the last time you walked the halls of Unyus with your head held high? You’ve been scraping by and starving since you awoke by the lake. he chided himself as he felt the ghost vanish from his shade. Looking upon the village before him, Maryev growled. It would be fun, but ultimately fruitless to tear it apart brick by brick. The people were not his enemy, as much as he despised them. He just wanted to be left to his own devises and leave them to theirs unless he needed to use them for something. He lifted his rapidly diminishing rupee purse and frowned. He needed the rupees to survive, and he wasn’t going to resort to being little more than a bandit to shake people down for their wealth. He was barely surviving, let alone thriving. What harm could it be to find if someone was willing to offer him rupees? The realization that he’d need others to reclaim his birthright and return home was hardly a new one to the Darknut warrior, but he had refused to entertain the idea. Maryev was no one’s servant.

But now, he had no choice.

Cursing under his breath, Maryev lowered his visor and grabbed his sword and shield, walking through the graveyard gates. He would entertain the ghost’s proposition, for now. But in the meantime, he would carry himself with pride and let anyone else gathered in the specified place see him as a man of pride and purpose, not as a desperate beggar in need of gems. He would learn if he was right to pay heed to the ethereal trickster soon enough.

Marching upon the graveyard, he paid no heed to the headstones as he passed – their stories had ended, no great deeds could be accomplished by dead men. It wasn’t long before he saw a gathered group, the young scrawny girl who had skulked by him minutes earlier (whatever did she have to offer anyone?), another woman who was unnaturally pale and gangly in ill-fitting clothing who looked as if she were mentally vacant given her purposeless stares, a man in face concealing garment who seemed too flamboyant to be taken seriously, little more than a jester (in Maryev’s culture, an absolute dreg who was little better than the stooges who tended to his chamber pot), and a somewhat sinister looking figure in a robe that concealed everything about him… or it. There was something decidedly unpleasant and unnatural about him, not unlike a practitioner of dark arts. The robe gave off a similar vibe as the ghost from earlier, and Maryev wondered if this was indeed the ghost who had spoken to him earlier? He approached wordlessly and stood sentry, silently observing the others. His purpose of being here would be revealed soon enough and he was in no hurry to entertain the peasants.

Jira didn't lose focus until his song was at an end. He began tuning the lute as he mulled over the rhythm and rhyme necessary to respond to his... darling. As he focused on plucking the strings and testing their tightness, he responded to the girl beside him, his voice not so goofy but more soft with his diverted concentration.

"Yeah, yeah,
This is where it is.
Some kind of adventure
Some kind of shiz.
That dark dude
What brought us here,
By chance just up
and disappeared."

It almost just sounded more like a poem than a rap, but there was enough rhythm for it to pass. He turned his face, concealed by his mask, to the red haired merchant as he set his lute flat on his lap.

"I know your hair
Your voice
Your what and where,
But I've yet to collect
The name
Of my maiden so fair."

‘Wowza, you’re really good, sweetheart. How long have you been drawin’? I’d pay some good money for a portrait.’ A woman's voice said to him as he peered over his pad in surprise. he’d been so engrossed in drawing the alleyway from memory that he hadn’t seen or heard the woman approach. The women he saw was beautiful to the point where he couldn’t take his eyes of her, but his instincts kicked off all the same, this woman was a predator of a different sort then he was used to dealing with. He could see it in the way she was looking at him, so hungrily. As he began to squirm under such scrutiny she posited a question to him that made him turn red in embarrassment.

‘do you do nudes?’ which she followed up with a lewd act. Standing up and placing his drawing pad in with his belongings he replied

“N-no, im not that good and even if i was, which again i am not very good, i wouldn’t feel comfortable drawing you nude. Not that i mean you're not beautiful!” he looked down and away as he shut his own mouth to prevent himself from stumbling into anymore faux pas. He was about to walk past her when she brushed her question of as a joke and offered to pay Nil for a drawing. He narrowed his eyes at her and was about to say no when his body decided to remind him hhe had had only jerky for a long while and that something else was much due. Looking at the woman, still hesitant about accepting the job, decided to take the risk. After all if he got into any real danger he could still run, now THAT he was good at.
“What kind of drawing would you want, and how much are you willing to pay?” he questioned really hoping it was just a drawing of her and some of her innocent friends.

Raising his eyebrow slightly Angus wondered who or what Erka was referring to by 'they'. He shrugged it off, none of his business, but in his mind he continued to wonder. His thoughts were interrupted however by the sweet sound of music coming from the girl's flute. He smiled a little, a warm and friendly smile that sat well on his face as he listened. "That's a beautiful song, reminds me of something I heard out on one of my travels." He pointed his finger to the windmill near the centre of the town. "You know there's actually a few songs that come from this town. There's the windmill song." He motioned to the path next to it that lead to the graveyard. "And then there's another one about the sun that you can find in the graveyard. You seen the graveyard yet? It's a pretty place, calm, quiet, I was gonna' head over there myself and say hi to my folks. Wanna tag along? It'd be a nice break from all this hustle and bustle."

Not waiting for her response he made his way around the stall, leaving a small 'closed' sign on the desk and stashing his stock under the desk before heading off towards the graveyard. He passed by that armoured fellow hanging around near the path, he wasn't sure what he was doing there, certainly not entertaining children, but he paid him no mind and carried on to the graveyard. Once there he moved quietly to his parent's graves, two almost identical triangular gravestones with several white flowers laid respectively in front. One read 'Maria Tower' and the other 'Garland Tower', Angus stood with his hands in front of him looking down at the two for a moment of silence.

Honestly, Cain thought that went fairly well. As the Darknut trudged up the graveyard path, Cain marveled that his guess had been accurate—or, at least, that Maryev was willing to put up with his proposal after so wrong a hypothesis. From Felicia's shadow, he witnessed Maryev scrutinizing everyone, seeing some semblance of himself in those cold, calculating eyes. This was clearly a smart beast, if not a friendly or helpful one. That meant that he would need to inform Lethe the best way to deal with him and the only way to his heart: money. There was, after all, no other reason that Maryev would have entertained Cain's offer, seeing as he hadn't mentioned any nonsense about whispers in the night or saving the world. For the first time, and in light of his analysis of the Darknut, Cain questioned exactly why he was doing this. He, like Maryev if his guess was accurate, had lost so much. Neither had any interest whatsoever in playing the hero or serving the goddesses; given the chance, Cain imagined that both he and his large new ally would be only too glad to rip them limb from limb.

The answer was opportunity. Maryev wanted money, and Cain wanted a clue. Anything that could point him in the direction of Midna, Zant, or the Twilight Realm, was reason enough for him to play the part. Of course, a little vengeance for crimes against his ancestors was tempting as well.

He was in the process of assuming his half-bodied form and addressing those gathered here when he noticed movement in a corner of the graveyard. He instantly thought of Stalfos and ReDead. While such a creature wouldn't be worth his time even to kill, his curiosity would simply not rest until he figured out exactly what the disturbance was and if it was a threat. Still in shadow form, he moved between the shades of tombstones until he was only a few feet away from the intruder. Rather than some undead monster, it appeared to be a man in his sixties, though bigger and more muscular than any other Hylian Cain had ever seen. This towering giant of a man was evidently in a moment of serenity, however, paying respects to the twin graves before him. Cain bent over to examine them. Maria and Garland Tower. The Twili deduced that whoever they were, they must have been very important to him to elicit this level of focus; he hadn't even noticed the strangers gathered in the graveyard's center on the way in. Relatives, perhaps...parents? More interesting than the Hylian's losses, however, was the circumstance in which he was here. Normal people don't visit cemeteries. Destiny must have brought him here. So intent was Cain on Angus that he totally failed to notice Ekra nearby, despite her flashy Keaton mask.

Currently cast on the ground, Cain began to wave his arms slowly at where he guessed was the edge of the man's field of vision, hoping to subtly draw his attention. If Angus noticed, he would retreat, still beckoning, until he had drawn him to the others. Perhaps he would think that the Twili was a ghost as well.