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[h3]⛼ A7 - Encounter at the Crossroads ⛼[/h3][/center]
The walk had not been especially long, by all means it hadn’t, and though the day was relatively early the streets already bore far too many people. He couldn’t tell how many yet would die soon, though the gravekeep supposed such might be due to the people, might be due to the fact that most seemed to be far more interested in dying of unnatural causes than the natural ones. Such mercenary souls weren’t long for the world, and they willingly took up the challenge in exchange for the coin or the thrills. His two faithful kept close, close despite their looks saying that few were interested in stealing what meager things the trio had upon them.

And yet…and yet he felt a tug, an entirely different tug. Something…connecting, together, [i]something else[/i]. He’d never felt the concept before, that feeling, and it was altogether different to what he had felt of the dead. What was it? There was no specific point to it, no direction, and he could instead perhaps liken the feeling to…the spider at the center of the web, feeling another pluck against the silk. What…[i]was it?[/i] The gravekeep couldn’t tell, though as his eyes scanned over the heads of the crowd in wonder a brief pang thundered against his heart and soul at the sight of another.

They seemed like him in a way not physical, not in stance, not in origin. They seemed like him in a way Lethe could not place. Their feet, booted, covered…walking a path. The image of the path came before the gravekeep in a flash. Were they touched as well? It may well be so. He had not met another before. They approached.

[quote][i]"Good day to you. I am Acolyte Cantor of Ordo Benevolence. Would you mind if I ask you some questions?”[/i][/quote]
He considered them for a moment, and the question, looking down at the man. He didn’t seem to offer up violence to the gravekeep, not at all, but instead seemed to bear a genuine curiosity. Nevertheless, it would not do to become unguarded. It would not do at all. The ghost of a smile yet played about the corners of the tall man’s mouth as he spoke. “I would not, Cantor of the Ordo Benevolence.”