Another cloudy night rolls in covering the last of the twilight sky, as if the blackness failed to come fast enough. The rolling grey rapidly becomes as invisible as the stars it conceals, but the air still feels humid. The low sky imparts a claustrophobic tension that the witch enjoys. The cloud fails to blanket the sky, instead it is sporadic, chaotic in where it chooses to be thick or sparse. In the gaps the sky has darkened; the clouds are no longer white or paler grey, instead they are blackened shadows that shift with the wind. There are times they move just enough to reveal the full moon, but for the most part this night will be without the benefit of her silvery light.

The witch scowled into the gloom of the night, following the path of the road and pulled her feathers from the thatch of black hair on her limbs. The effect was to make her look more deranged. The hair had been hacked in random stabbing motions, presumably by a person with no patience and less eyesight- and indeed it had. Beneath the crude mop of fur was a face less appealing than onion eye-drops, at least, in her opinion. She was never one for beauty or for believing there is anything by it, she prefered intelligence and strenght over such frivial interest. What use could she have for grooming? The more gruesome she was the more others would not approach her. In her mind, it was a win.

Speech

GOT AN ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER But the devil always won... Harbringr worked his way south, enjoying the cooler weather now that the sun had set. Clouds moved in casting the night in an even deeper darkness but he wasn't bothered… at least by the dark. What had been bothering him was his wife's sudden silence since his arrival in these new lands. Was she displeased with him? He didn't think so. It was partly at her urging that he'd sought these new lands, that he'd sought to reconnect with his siblings. So why was she not speaking to him now? Hari sighed. "Oh Costanza… why do you torture me so. Have I displeased you my love?," he whispered. "Or is there something here that you struggle to break through?" He sat down and sighed wonder if there was some ritual he needed to perform. If only he could find his siblings. Where would they have gone? His ears twitched as he heard movement but at first he could not see anything. "Hello? Is someone there?"

As the foul witch was bleating inconsequentially into the night the voice was unexpected. It was low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and with a hint of more power than her frail, skeletic body would possess. It was a male voice and it came...from....

There!

Within the next moment the witch already turned on her heels as if a spell was cast against her, commanding her body to move without her will. Her cerulean orbs dug through each and single shadow in order to find its source but what hit her was a surprise. His cologne. Oh, his cologne brought memories before her very eyes and even the hallucinations did not dare to make another appearance after she moaned, inhaling more vapors of that deliciously familiar scent.

Harbringr?

She turned right and left and right and left, turning her skeletical form into a 360 degrees circle.

Harbringr! The plume of her breath billowed out, and quickly dissipated in the cool midnight air and she could never whisper because her voice always had a million reasons to shout.

Speech

GOT AN ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER But the devil always won... He didn't breathe, his ears straining to pick up any sound in the deep dark of the cloudy night. Movement. Sensuous and smooth caught his attention and as he strained to pick up its source he heard his name in the familiar tones of one of his dear sisters. He grinned and swiftly moved toward the sound as he heard his name a second time. "Here Cordelia! I am here!" He bounded toward her, reaching out gently to nuzzle her."It is good to see you. I've had enough of this evening's silence." He'd had enough of silence ever since he'd arrived in this new land. Well, that wasn't true. There were the sounds of the world, the wind through the grass, the birds in the trees. In truth he tired of the lack of company. He craved the conversation of others, he was starved for it. "How have you been dear sister? Have you come across Hannibal by chance?"