Dressed in a brown jacket strode a young man, he emanated sorrow, surely he had been forsaken the idyllic life everyone deserved the opportunity to live. The thought that any he ran across would be marked with the same misfortune caused The Weeper to pause in his descent down the ash-strewn cliff. He shook his head with sudden disappointment, staring intently at the unfortunate who strayed into his path. 

He knew of course that he was a ludicrously easy target to spot, standing there all theatrically in his cloak atop a rocky slope. Though he couldn’t tell if the man had actually turned to look at him yet, stealth wasn’t something The Weeper was interested in at that moment anyway. He kicked some loose rocks down towards him, to ensure he’d definitely been spotted, and then set down with an icy determination. However, about half-way down the rocks he was distracted by the sudden dim illumination of the clouds above as one sometimes finds on an overcast day. This kept him transfixed for a little while, standing completely still, like some grotesque human statue. The mask on his face only heightened this image to the outside eye. 

He shook himself angrily from his reverie, shifting his weight slightly as his hand strayed to the sword at his hip and grasped tentatively, before he settled his eyes once more on the young fool.

He wondered then if he would talk, if he could talk even. Would the young man answer he wondered. Could The Weeper remember how to form words? Would it overcome him? His mouth moved unseen beneath the white-mask, struggling with every breath of anticipation.

There wasn’t much distance between them now, maybe twenty paces, the ground was uneven and rocky and particularly steep behind him, though they had some relatively flat ashen earth around them. It would be an ideal place to die.

“This would be an ideal place to die.” The Weeper said suddenly, concurring with his own thoughts, and shockingly spoken in the open air. For a moment he stood transfixed by his own words, remembering the last time anything had been uttered from his so very aged mouth. He was overcome with a shuddering, awe inspiring excitement, which quickly shifted into an irritating trembling. He didn’t want to look afraid, his head tilted and the sorrowful mask was displayed in full view for the human to stare at. Maybe he would be afraid, perhaps he wouldn’t.