Broken Boulder The Red Moon Of Doom

"Oooh, blood moon, spooky," he said, his voice treading the line between awestruck and sarcastic. Zamael was truly interested in the world around them and its quirks, but he tried to keep a level head when things like this happened. This wasn't the work of some god; this wasn't an omen. Something was happening that had some sort of explanation that someone knew; he wasn't going to flip out, especially if it went right back to normal, like Alarian mentioned.

Zamael let out a breath, shifting his paws. "I suppose I've seen this before, too, but I don't really remember," he remarked. "I'm usually asleep by now," he added, with a chuckle. There were night owls and early birds, and Zamael was firmly in the latter category. Morning mists and sunrises were much more to his liking than the crushing darkness of midnight.