[img]https://i.imgur.com/q964FNz.png[/img]

To say Morgan was exhausted was a severe understatement. Upon leaving the Drunken Dove, in which his newly formed party had consequentially trashed during their encounter with the demonspawned sisters, Morgan found the nearest, quietest alleyway a city such as Zerul had to offer. Lazily climbing to natural ledge provided by meeting buildings, the vampire found himself in a fitful sleep. With the beast fully spent, the cold calculating sniffer emerged from his psyche. 

What had the emotional monster gotten into now, Morgan finding himself in a place of circumstance and apparently bad luck. All he had wanted was to keep a low profile, to hide among the city's vast population. But now this Thrainsson found himself between men of legend and monsters of myth, only things that he had heard around the soldiers' campfires or offhandedly whispered by his handler and company. The question that he found himself asking as he woke, each time only with a few hours of uninterrupted sleep was a simple, but important one, [color=fff200][i]'What are you doing, Morgan?'[/i][/color]

Morning came, of course, sooner that Morgan had hoped. Much to his annoyance, he found himself pointed in the direction of the rising sun - a mistake he had committed before and one that he cursed himself for yet again. Luckily, his gear was protecting his delicate skin. The vampire had struggled to hide in any shade provided, but hour by hour, this task was proving to be impossible. Eyes turned to slits, Morgan cursed the rising orb of death, [color=fff200][i]'May that cursed ball of light darken forever.'[/i][/color] The vampire began to unfurl his curled figure, a soft moan accompanying his stretching limbs, [color=fff200][i]'Perhaps I can find a darker corner of the universe to slee--'[/i][/color]

Morgan froze at the sound of a confused, questioning voice, loudly ringing in the alley:[b] "Hey?!"[/b]

Cautiously moving with the patience of an experienced fugitive, Morgan was barely able to make out the form of a young woman--no man, looking upward in the general direction of his perch. But from behind the ragged folds of his robes, Morgan was unable to tell for sure if it was the vampire the young man was hailing, or someone above his elevated perch. [i][color=fff200]'Best not to move...'[/color][/i] But even as the sniffer thought this, he knew he would have to if he were to see his potential problem fully - his mask, his face's protection against the sun's growing beams was preventing him from seeing anything beyond the slitted vision it provided.

[color=fff200][i]'He's just a boy - [b]he's just a boy[/b].'[/i][/color]

The beast was beginning to crawl back. The night's previous events, the stress of the hateful light that was threatening to swallow his form whole - [color=fff200][i]'It's worth it. It's...'[/i][/color] The robed formed shifted uncomfortably. Morgan was making a decision based on little known facts. Was his quarry truly a boy? Was there someone else with him? The sniffer couldn't tell, and his patience was wearing thin. The hunger - the ever constant hunger was threatening him, even this early in his day. 

Morgan uncurled from his crouched position, head poking from his inconspicuous form of hanging cloth, revealing himself to the boy below.