Morningside Cuesta I Know Him

Their gazes connected, and the answer he'd desired had been given. No. He was not a witch, and the only one that had ever believed him to be one—to his knowledge, that is—had come to realize the truth. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips, glad that his image would be muddled no longer by the notion that he was, by some twist of fate, a caster of spells and hexes. He believed that some with magical properties running through their veins could be good, but the stories he'd heard in his travels had always written them out to be vile, malicious creatures. They were told to be the opposite of how he knew himself to be, and so it was a relief to know that he'd be viewed as one no longer.

"That's good," he'd eventually said, holding their eye contact for a moment longer. When he'd finally broken it, it was so that he could look around them, knowing that staring was an impolite gesture. "Are you passing through this land, or are you here to stay?" After their initial meeting, the two had parted and had never seen one another again. Alastor had assumed that he'd gone off to a land beyond Teekon, having never crossed paths with his band of wanderers prior to their departure.