Blood Magic

12: City Of The Dead

.^^ Griselda ^^

— James —

Though I felt comfortably full, my body was still a little chilly from summoning all that food. It seemed that the more complex whatever you summoned, the more difficult it was. So, I set out to walk and hopefully warm myself up in the moonlight.

The first place I came to was one of the Cities of the Dead. The massive graveyards that this city was famous for. I walked along the rows respectfully, casually placing different colored roses onto the graves.

Then I touched the wilting trees, and brought a little life to them. They still looked dead, on the outside, but the hearts had been reanimated.

"Well, my job is easier for tonight, I suppose... depends how long your magic lasts, Halfling." A Female spoke somewhere behind me, in a language I'd never heard before.

I answered without turning around. "My Name is James Parthenos-Peterson. Don't call me a Halfling. It irks me."

"It is what you are. It is accurate."

"And the fact that it offends me should be enough to make you use the name I've provided, if you're not an asshole." I snapped back, and turned around.

An elf sat on a mausoleum, staring down at me, while another almost exactly like him, except female, leaned against it on the ground. Ink-Black hair, porcelain skin, along with a Rune of some kind on their faces, made me sure.

"Ahhh... you're Dark Elves... and you've come to have a row?" I asked casually, unconcerned.

The male narrowed his eyes, and the female laughed softly. "We're not Dark Elves, James Parthenos-Peterson. We're Unseelie, yes, but dark elves are a different race entirely."

"Oh? Does being misnamed offend you?" I asked dryly, making the boy snort.

She bowed her head. "I see your point, and apologize for any offense I have given, undue... why are you in the City of the Dead, James, other than healing trees?"

"I'm spending the night not too far from here. Wanted to walk off a heavy dinner. Saw a cemetery and thought I'd pay my respects, if it means anything to them." I nodded at the graves.

She hummed. "It doesn't, you know. Not many people stay near their graves. The ones that do are either ancient witch spirits, the kind that would rather rip our kind in half that accept a flower, or poltergeists, just the same."

I laughed softly. "And yet here you are, amongst the gravestones."

She narrowed her eyes. "It's my duty to care for the stones and trees. I am protected. I only tell you so you can leave before you piss off something beyond you."

"What, like you? Was that the unspoken text? Because as far as I'm concerned, Spirits only hate those they have a beef with, and I'm a part-time vegetarian." I grinned.

The male laughed, and spoke softly in a different, older language. "Leave him, sister. He does no harm. And I like his jokes."

"I don't like being insulted!" She responded.

"Then don't threaten people." He said simply.

"You're useless!"

"Aaaand yet here I am, protecting your sorry, flat ass." He smirked.